


The Waltz of Shilly-Shallying

by thefandomsinhalor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Belphegor is Jack Kline's imaginary friend, Caring Rowena MacLeod, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Christmas, Christmas Movies, Cute Jack Kline, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Imaginary Friends, Kissing, M/M, Miscommunication, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Pet Groomer Dean Winchester, Single Parent Castiel (Supernatural), Sledding, Slow Burn, Snow, Supportive Sam Winchester, Veterinarian Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22274833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefandomsinhalor/pseuds/thefandomsinhalor
Summary: Pet groomer Dean Winchester has had a crush on Castiel Novak, his veterinarian friend, for quite some time now. He’s kindhearted, handsome and a devoted single father to his young, adorable—and quirky—son, Jack. But after a few hints from Dean, the feeling doesn’t appear to be mutual.As for Castiel, Dean has been occupying his thoughts more and more since the summer. Fearing to complicate their friendship, however, Castiel figures it is best for him to put these ideas out of his head, focus on his son (and his very opinionated imaginary friend, Belphegor) and simply remain friends with Dean.That is until they find themselves under the mistletoe.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 55
Kudos: 368
Collections: Destiel Harlequin Holiday Cheesefest Challenge 2019





	1. Chapter One: Winchester's Pet Groomer

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the Harlequin Challenge (Holiday edition!!) I hope you enjoy it!!  
> I thought it was about time I wrote something with Jack in it and the prompt was perfect.  
> Thanks to the super understanding and helpful mods. You are saints. No other way of putting it. Thank you.  
> A MASSIVE thank you to Danica_Dust who always saves my butt with editing.  
> THANK YOU.

“What do you mean you’re not going?”

“I can’t. I—Mrs. Tran called and asked if she could change her appointment for Caramel and Macchiato,” said Sam. “Since we are totally booked up until Christmas—”

“Nearly overbooked, even…” admitted Dean.

“Exactly. Otherwise, the closest I could give her was January third. Dean, her reason for requesting a new appointment was totally legit and I just—I felt bad making her wait until after the holidays.”

Dean let out a deep sigh as he sank in his desk chair.

So far, the month of December had been incredibly busy for the Winchester brothers. That fact in itself wasn’t exactly surprising to either of them, since starting November, it was usually the Winchester’s Pet Groomer’s busiest time of the year.

And now, with only two weeks left before Christmas, the inevitable rescheduling or last-minute appointments of their favourite and faithful clients were bound to make their schedule even crazier from this point on.

And yet, Dean, sitting at his desk, studying on his screen the overview of the upcoming week, couldn’t help but think that he and Sam, once again, might have overdone it this year.

Whiskey, his loyal and adorable Samoyed dog, who had been lying at his feet, keeping them warm, sat up and rested her head on his lap, sensing that Dean was in need of moral support. She looked at him with her dark eyes, wiggling her tail.

Dean instantly smiled, unable to resist that sweet face, and patted her behind her ears.

Sam, also sitting at his own desk, which was resting against the opposite wall in their small office, rotated his chair to get a proper look at Dean.

“And after discussing it with her,” he continued, “Saturday night was the only time that fit both our schedules. So, I thought, just this one time, and because it’s her, we’d make an exception and pencil her in after hours. It’s that or I’m suggesting the twenty-fourth.”

Dean shook his head. “No,” he said, lifting his hand. “We said we wouldn’t do it this year. We always say we’ll take the twenty-fourth off so we don’t rush in to Mom and Dad’s, and we always cave. We’re already working Sundays when we said we wouldn’t.”

“And that’s why I thought of Saturday night. And honestly, Dean, she’s almost doing us a favor. With her appointment cancelled tomorrow, it will give us a chance to pick up the slack.”

Dean sighed. “So, what now? I’m supposed to go to the Stynes’ annual holiday party on my own while you stay here? How about we switch? You go to the event, talk to a million people, as you subtly promote the place, and I’ll stay here and take care of the dogs.”

“No, Dean. I’m the one who made the new arrangement with Mrs. Tran, so I should be the one to do it.”

Dean made a face. “Sam, I don’t want to—you know how I hate these town events. I feel out of place.”

Sam frowned. “What? No you don’t. I—I thought you were looking forward to it. You said that you would—”

“I know, I know,” he said firmly, lowering his eyes and continuing to stroke Whiskey’s head. “I just…I’m not sure it’s a good idea now.”

One look at Sam and Dean knew saying it out loud had been a mistake.

“Dean, no.” Sam stood up from his seat, with his index pointing at him in an accusatory manner. “You’ve stalled on this far too long already. You said you’d finally ask him out. God, _do it_ already.”

Dean then mumbled something like, “It’s complicated.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to protest Dean’s last comment, but before he could, Whiskey suddenly turned her head towards the entrance and stepped away from Dean’s reach. She let out a small bark and rushed to the shut office door, wanting to get out.

Dean lifted an eyebrow and shot a look at Gamgee, Sam’s energetic and cute Corgi, who had remained on his bed, still gnawing his squeaking toy, and perfectly unaffected by whatever commotion Whiskey was excited about.

Dean’s heartbeat increased. He checked the time on his phone, and yes, three o’clock on the dot.

Which could only mean one thing.

Both brothers exchanged a look.

“Gee, I wonder who that is,” said Sam with a smirk on his face.

“It could be Annie Hawkins arriving early,” said Dean as casually as he could.

“Half an hour early?” laughed Sam. “Sure. Why don’t you go check on _Annie_ ,” he said, after he opened the door, thus freeing Whiskey, who bolted into the lobby, “and I’ll go check how Patience and Garth are doing. They must be close to being done with Ava’s cats and I finished my late lunch anyway.”

Left alone in the office, Dean took a deep breath and followed behind his dog. He nervously turned the corner, and just as he suspected, he found Castiel Novak, the kind veterinarian, who worked down at the Novak & Milton Animal Clinic down the street and whom he had befriended over the years, petting Whiskey’s head, with a smile on his face.

“I had a feeling it was you.”

Castiel looked up. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hi, Cas.”

Over the last few weeks, Castiel had gotten into the habit of stopping by at the end of his shift. And every time, Whiskey had been waiting for him by the door as if she had known exactly when to expect him. Almost like they had an understanding about it.

And with each passing day, it was becoming the highlight of Dean’s day.

Castiel stood up to meet him at his eye level. “How is everything?”

“Great. Can’t complain. You?”

“Likewise.” There was a moment of silence, during which they simply stared at each other, until Castiel spoke again. “I meant to thank you. People keep showing up at the clinic on your recommendation. The Loughlin and the Chambers even called this afternoon requesting an appointment with me and no one else.”

“That’s nothing, Cas. One, I only do it when they ask if I know a good vet. Two, you’re the one who started it.”

“Still. Thank you”

And then, as it typically occurred, the conversation went dead, leaving them simply staring at each other in a very awkward manner.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” said Castiel. “I just wanted to say hello. You must be busy.”

Desperate to keep Castiel a little longer, Dean added urgently, “No, not busy. I mean—we are, but—you’re not disturbing us or anything.” He cleared his throat. “How’s Jack?”

Castiel smiled at him. “He’s doing fine. Though, I hope he makes a new friend soon.”

Dean leaned back his head, amused. “Belphegor is still around, I see.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Dean squinted at him. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s not bad…but let’s just say, that the fact that my six-year-old has an imaginary friend isn’t as endearing as it was when it started a couple of months ago. I—anyway,” he said, waving his hand. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean to just bore you with all this.”

“It’s not boring. And I’m the one who asked.”

Castiel nodded. “Anyway, um, I have my hands full. I am looking forward to the weekend, however.”

“Oh yeah?” Anxiety slowly spreading in his chest, Dean asked, “You and Jack have big plans before the Stynes’ party?”

“Oh, I’m—I—actually, I don’t think I’m going this year.”

Dean’s heart stopped. He stood perfectly still, hoping he hadn’t betrayed himself. “How come?”

“I’m—I don’t know. I’m not feeling it this year. I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on and, frankly, with the holidays right around the corner, it just dawned on me that I’m a bit late on my usual holiday rituals with Jack. I’d like to remedy that.” He paused a moment, as though he was reflecting on what he had just said, and asked, “Is that wrong? Am I just sad or—”

“No, of course not. Wanting to spend time with your kid is not wrong. Quite the opposite, actually.” And after clearing his throat, he added, as casually as he could, “I—I’m just sad I won’t get to see you there.”

Although Castiel kept his typical deadpan expression, for a brief instant, Dean had thought he had seen something in Castiel’s eyes.

But then he thought it was most likely wishful thinking on his part.

“That’s very kind of you to say. But, as always, I’m sure you won’t find yourself in bad company either,” he said genuinely.

And although Dean knew Castiel had meant it as a compliment, he still felt a pang in his chest at his words.

“You can tell me all about it next time we see each other,” Castiel continued.

“Yup. Sounds like a plan.”

And after a short instant, Castiel said, “All right, I should head out. It was nice seeing you.”

“Same. Say hi to Jack for me. And Belphegor,” he added, amused.

Castiel sighed, and said, “Will do.”

Walking him to the entrance, Dean quickly made sure that Whiskey had remained on her spot, before opening the door for him. And after one last glance, Castiel said goodbye and left, waving at him through the front window.

And Dean waved at him in return and stayed still as he watched him amble down the street, until he turned the corner, out of his sight.

And Dean let out a deep sigh.

“So, how long is this suffering in silence session is gonna last?” said someone behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Sam,” yelped Dean, holding a hand over his chest. “Thanks for the heart attack.” He turned to him, incredulous.

“Sorry.” Sam was now leaning in the back room’s doorway. “You could still ask him out.”

Dean shook his head. “I can’t. And you just saw why.”

“What do you mean? You were almost there. If you had told him clearly why you wanted to see him there instead of simply insinuating it, then—”

“Well, that’s not what happened, so can we please leave it at that?” Dean rushed past him, heading back to the office.

He settled back in his chair and moved some papers around on his desk. Although Sam didn’t press any additional comment, which Dean was truly grateful for, it was also evident that Sam was not ready to drop the matter. He had followed Dean to the office, and with pursed lips and a stern stare, he made his point clear.

And just as Dean was about to tell him so, his phone buzzed.

“Who is it?” asked Sam, noticing Dean’s expression turn glum as he stared at his phone.

“Cain.” He let go of his phone, and rested his chin on his hand. “He’s asking if I’m free to go to the Stynes’ party with him.”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, you know,” said Sam.

“I have to go. You’re already not going as it is.”

“I mean with Cain, Dean. And I stand for what I said earlier. You can still ask Cas.”

But only one look sufficed for Sam to know that Dean, true to himself, was going to be stubborn and not follow through with this plan.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Sam sympathetically, and left the office.

And after letting out a deep sigh and stroking his dog’s head, Dean said, “I hope so, too.”


	2. Chapter Two: Belphegor Says

On the drive home, Castiel was listening to his son, Jack, recounting in great detail his version of an incident that had occurred on that afternoon at school. An incident that had involved a massive amount of spilled paint, and that had also warranted Castiel a phone call from the school.

And although Jack’s teacher, Mr. Sully, had been very adamant that it had been an accident and had assured Castiel that Jack was not in any trouble, the simple fact that he had nonetheless seen necessary to inform Castiel of the event was, somewhat, worrisome to Castiel.

And yet, despite the seriousness of the situation, another matter was weighing on Castiel’s mind even more during the same drive home.

Notably, his conversation with Dean.

The truth was that, for quite some time now, Dean often occupied his thoughts.

He wasn’t exactly sure when it had began, but since the summer, he had found himself thinking of Dean more often than he used to. He was genuinely glad to see him whenever he ran into him in town. He was more selective in his choice of clothes when he knew he would meet him later in the day. And he paid attention to every little detail Dean would tell him about himself and listened to him as though it was riveting information.

Because for Castiel, it was nothing short of riveting.

And then, nearly a month ago, Castiel had walked by the Winchester’s Pet Groomer purely to say hello.

And he did so again the next day. And the one after that. And the one after that as well. And without meaning to, Castiel had found himself needing to continue doing so every day. Just so he could see Dean through the front window. Wave at him or perhaps talk to him.

Even if only for a short instant.

And it was a problem. A distraction. And mildly inappropriate.

For one, this sort of behavior was extremely unlike him, which was disconcerting enough as it was. For another, Castiel was convinced that the idea of him and Dean being together was not only highly improbable, but simply preposterous as well, and this for more than one reason.

The main one being that, to the best of his knowledge, Dean Winchester had no interest whatsoever in serious relationships.

And while this was certainly an issue for Castiel, it was not his only one.

“But Belphegor said that it was Max who did it, not Clark.”

The mention of Belphegor snapped Castiel out of his cogitation, only to be hit with guilt, spreading in his stomach, that he hadn’t been properly listening to his son.

“I didn’t see either of them,” Jack continued saying, seemingly unaware of his father’s lack of attention, “but if Belphegor said so, I think it’s because it’s true.”

Suppressing a groan, Castiel peeked in the rear view mirror and caught a glimpse of his son, sitting in the back seat and wearing the white-framed sunglasses.

“Jack, your teacher said you were the one who dropped the paint container.” And then urgently added, “Accidentally.”

“But I didn’t!”

“And what about Belphegor?” Castiel suggested cautiously. ~~~~

“It wasn’t him, either. I told you! He said it was Max.”

Mildly frustrated, Castiel sighed. Deciding to broach the topic at another time, and not while he was driving, he said, “Are you looking forward to this weekend?”

“Yes. And Belphegor is eager to see Eliot’s house.”

“Eliot? Who—” and the rest of his sentence died in his throat. He gripped the wheel a moment. “The Christmas sleepover party. That’s—that’s this weekend,” he said to himself, not believing he had forgotten.

“Can I still go, Dad?”

“Of course,” he assured him. “I’m happy you want to go. You were so excited.”

Jack stayed silent and looked out the window.

“You still want to go, don’t you?” Castiel asked him, with his eyes bouncing back and forth between the road and the mirror.

“I guess,” said Jack in a faint voice. “But I think Belphegor wants to go more than I do.”

Castiel took a deep breath, as he wondered if he would ever be able to have another conversation without this damn Belphegor being mentioned.

“And what are you going to do, Dad?”

“While you’ll be at your sleepover, you mean?”

Jack nodded, still staring out of the window.

Repressing the impulse to tell him he would simply miss him, he answered in a jovial tone, “Probably try to catch up on all the boring stuff, so when you come back we can have fun. How about that?”

But it seemed that information had not been as reassuring for his son as he had intended.

Jack turned his head towards him, and even if he was still wearing the sunglasses, thus hiding most of his face, Castiel could tell his son was confused.

“I thought you said you had a party, too. You’re not going anymore?” he asked, with discernible concern in his voice.

“Maybe not, no.”

Jack turned his head to the left, and after a few seconds, he said, “You should go, Dad. Belphegor says that if we get to see our friends, it means that you should be able to see yours, too.”

And with that, Castiel swallowed hard and attempted to not dwell too much on the fact that Belphegor had apparently made a lot of sense.

Later that night, while cleaning the dishes (the ones that he could tend to in that instant, anyway), Castiel reflected on Belphegor’s argument. Perhaps it was because of the source in question, but even when he took into account that his Saturday night was now obviously free, and this without the need to find a babysitter, thus rendering it impossible for him to use it as an excuse, Castiel nevertheless remained ambivalent about the idea.

And the main reason was, of course, because of Dean.

Above all else, Castiel dreaded the prospect of witnessing, yet again, the annual tradition of Dean Winchester being glued to somebody else’s arm.

Giggling in a corner, while he whispered sweet nothings into his dashing date’s ear, and shared lovey-dovey looks.

It had never really bothered Castiel before, as this was a regular occurrence, and not solely at the Stynes’ holiday party.

But since the summer, Castiel had felt his heart grow weary once or twice, like when Dean had briefly mentioned an impulsive getaway weekend he had with a woman named Tina.

Or when he had spotted him strolling down the street, hand-in-hand, with some guy, around Halloween.

Or even less than a week ago, when he had seen Dean, through the front window of _Kendricks,_ having dinner with Cain.

So, no, Castiel was not in a particular hurry to put himself through that again.

Better to avoid the spectacle all together, he reasoned.

Over the next few days, however, his determination peeled itself from him, layer by layer.

Two of his co-workers, Anna and Samandriel, encouraged him to unwind over the weekend when they caught him staring blankly at his files for a good five minutes. The same had even been suggested to him by some of his clients, and while Dean had not mentioned the evening again, seeing his smile every day had definitely served as an incentive for Castiel.

All that being said, it was not until the Saturday in question that Castiel’s resistance finally diminished.

He dropped Jack off at his friend’s house in the early afternoon. He took a moment to speak with the parents, and once everything seemed to be in order, he then reminded Jack that if there was a problem, or if he had a change of heart and wanted to return home, that he should call him (or ask Eliot’s parents to call him), and this, under any circumstances, and no matter what time it was.

He also, as discreetly and gently as he could, suggested for his son to leave the sunglasses—and Belphegor, as one did not go without the other—with Castiel.

“But he wants to be here, Dad,” he pleaded to his father.

“Jack, I feel like this is like when you’re not allowed to wear the sunglasses during class at school. Because those are the rules and it’s not fair to the other children.”

Jack shifted his eyes, thinking. “All right. I’ll let you borrow them. But only if you go to your party and bring them with you.”

It had been difficult for Castiel to not make a face at his son. “Is this one of Belphegor’s ideas?”

Without hesitation, he nodded. “Either party is fine with him, he says. Please? Or he’ll be very sad.”

Anxious that he was enabling him, and doubting his aptitude as a parent, Castiel heard himself agreeing with Jack.

He hugged his son and said goodbye.

And took the sunglasses with him.

Not that he had wanted to lie, but on his way back home, Castiel yet again tried to dissuade himself from going to the Stynes’ party.

But when he caught sight of his neighbor, Rowena, he gathered that his last ounce of resistance would most definitely crumble if she had a say in the matter.

And naturally, she did.

“Castiel, great. Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Hello, Rowena. What can I help you with,” he said, stepping out of his car.

Standing on her porch, wrapped in a thick beautiful shawl, she said, “Would it be possible, dearie, to help me with the outdoor Christmas lights? It’s not urgent. Whenever you have a moment? There’s my delicious cider in it for you if you do!” she added in a playful tone.

“How can I resist that,” he said, laughing. “You know it would be my pleasure to help you with this. You’re so helpful with Jack. It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh, bless thee. Let me know when it works with you.”

Castiel nodded and after waving her goodbye, he began walking towards his door, convinced he had been spared from his neighbor’s speech.

No such luck.

“Where is your little angel, anyway?”

Knowing what the answer would bring, Castiel shut his eyes briefly, and then resigned himself to saying, “At a friend’s house.”

And her face lit up. “About time! So, that means you are going to the party, then?”

“Um, yeah…about that…”

“No, Castiel, you said you’d go if you were able to find another arrangement!” she reminded him. “I was almost ready to stay home with the boy to let you go. You need to do something else, for once. And now that you are out of excuses, no matter how valid or not they are, I better see your arse at that party, laddie,” she said in a demanding, yet caring, tone.

Thus, against what he believed to be his good judgment, Castiel got dressed accordingly, with his nicest suit, which he rarely wore, and the next thing he knew, he was crossing the gorgeous wood hall and stepping into the warm and luxurious dinning room of the Styne beautiful residence.

With the white sunglasses in his front pocket.

And feeling silly that he had done so.

The room, as he had suspected, was stunning. A massive white and blue Christmas tree was in the corner. The silverware and the display of the tables was enough to make Castiel feel out of place in that very distinguished evening, and he had to fight back the urge to make a run for it.

Everyone looked their best.

And Dean was nowhere in sight.

Castiel circulated through the room, saluting the other guests. Between hors d’oeuvres and chitchat, he glimpsed around in the hope of spotting Dean.

But even after a long hour on the floor, there was still no sign of him.

Or even of Sam. And he was usually rather easy to spot, given his height.

He often checked his phone, from time to time, not due to boredom, but because he wanted to be sure he hadn’t miss a call from Jack.

He had also been tempted to call and verify that everything was under control at Eliot’s, but then he reminded himself that Jack knew what to do if that wasn't the case, and that calling his son might create a problem in the first place.

And ruining Jack’s day was the last thing Castiel wanted.

Making friends—and socializing as a whole—had been a bit of an issue for Jack. Or so, people kept telling Castiel. Perhaps he was biased, but as far as he was concerned, there wasn’t much of an issue. Jack, though perhaps not the most volatile social butterfly, was certainly not unfriendly, or even shy.

And if Maggie, Jack’s best friend, and her family hadn’t moved to a different state in the middle of the summer, Castiel was convinced that some of the nosy parents—or anyone who seemed to have an opinion—wouldn’t have commented on Jack’s so-called unusual behavior regarding Belphegor.

Thank goodness, Mr. Sully was immensely understanding and patient enough to give his son some slack, and Castiel hoped that, sooner or later, everything would work itself out.

But to return to the Stynes' holiday party, just as Castiel was conceding to the fact that there were no messages that could serve him as the perfect excuse to flee the place, an announcement was made that the host, Monroe Styne, was about to give his traditional speech.

Feeling the weight of the crowd’s excitement, Castiel opted to get some fresh air for a few minutes. Thus, Castiel found refuge away from the mass on the sturdy, yet impressive, balcony made of stone. Admiring at the starry sky, he breathed the fresh air, sticking his hands in his pockets.

He let out one last deep sigh and turned on his heels, determined to leave.

And came face to face with Dean.


	3. Chapter Three: The Stynes' Holiday Party

After Dean had shut the door behind him, the one leading to the balcony, he unfortunately took note of Castiel’s presence a little later than he should have, and therefore, resulted with the two of them bumping into each other. After finding his footing, Dean froze when he finally realized who was standing in front of him.

“He—Cas. You’re here.”

“I am. Hello, Dean.”

“Hi. I—sorry, about, um, that.”

“It’s fine,” said Castiel with a warm smile.

Lingering near the closed door, they examined each other. Castiel was wearing a nice suit with a bright blue tie, accentuating his eyes. A fact that made a smile form itself at the corner of Dean’s mouth.

And then, as his gaze fell on Castiel’s arm, Dean remembered that, in their quasi-stumble, he had taken hold of Castiel’s arm.

And was apparently still holding on to it.

Panicking, he immediately let go of him, as he cleared his throat.

“Um, I thought you said you wouldn’t be here.”

“I wasn’t planning to be, but Jack got invited to a birthday party. A sleepover.”

“That’s awesome,” said Dean, delighted. “I know he was really sad when Maggie left. Did—um, was Belphegor invited?” he joked.

Castiel groaned. “Um, not exactly, no. But I was repeatedly told that he was eager to attend.” Dean chuckled. “However, with a bit of bargaining—on my son’s end, that is,” he sighed, “I managed to convince Jack to distance himself from Belphegor for the rest of the evening.”

“How?”

“I had to bring him with me,” he said, retrieving the sunglasses from his pocket. “So, I’m stuck with him tonight.”

Dean burst into laughter. “The demon crashed a party anyway.”

“It seems so.”

And then, Castiel bit his bottom lip, as worry spread across his face.

“He’ll be okay,” said Dean. “I bet Jack will be so busy with everyone there, he won’t even think of Belphegor.”

“I hope so. That’s what I’m telling myself every morning when he goes to school, but there are very few days now when I don’t hear that Belphegor made some kind of appearance.” And at Dean’s sympathetic smile, Castiel shook his head. “Anyway, um, this isn’t—with Jack busy, I decided to stop by. What about you? Have you been enjoying the party? How long have you been here?”

“A little while. I ran into Patience’s grandmother.”

And a grin spread across Castiel’s face. “And what did Missouri have to tell you?”

“A lot.”

“I can imagine,” he said, laughing. “All good I hope?”

“Only time will tell. She has a way of telling you something that can be both ominous and reassuring.”

“I know what you mean. And where’s Sam in all this? I didn’t spot either of you earlier.”

“That’s because Sam’s not here, actually. He’s—”

And Dean stopped mid-sentence, when loud cheers came from the other side of the door. Both listening, they watched the crowd through the lace curtains.

“Styne’s speech.”

“His never-ending boring speech, you mean.”

Castiel lifted an eyebrow at him.

“What?” said Dean defensively. “It’s true and you know it.” 

Castiel remained silent, but he smiled at him.

Standing side by side, they then shifted their gaze to the horizon, turning their backs to the door. The Styne property, situated at the edge of the town, right by the lake and the thick forest surrounding it, offered a beautiful scenery, in particular during winter time, thought Dean, when a fresh snowfall made it seem straight out of a painting.

“I always like the town this time of year,” said Dean. “I could do without the murdering cold that often comes with it, though.”

“Tonight’s actually nice.”

“It is.”

They exchanged a look. Laughter and short applause were heard. And with Castiel not diverting his stare, Dean felt the frenzy building within him.

“I—we should probably get back,” said Castiel. “Before the wind picks up.”

Dean took a deep breath. He nodded and reached for the door handle, aware that Castiel was watching him intensively. But before turning the handle, Dean froze as he noticed something.

There was a note on the door.

_Look up._

Their eyes lifted slowly, higher and higher, until they both found what they were looking for.

Mistletoe was hanging right above the door.

Right over them.

Dean lowered his gaze and found Castiel’s eyes.

And after a short hesitation, unable to stop himself and taking this as a sign from the universe, Dean leaned in slowly. Excruciatingly so. And just before his mouth met Castiel’s lips, he paused and watched Castiel carefully, expecting some form of protest.

But all he found in Castiel’s eyes was a look of deep tenderness and ardor.

So, Dean kissed him.

With the firm intention of keeping it short. And clean. Not overwhelming.

But to his surprise, with much assertion, he felt Castiel’s warmth envelop him, as he wrapped his arms around him and immediately deepened the kiss.

Gripping his tie, Dean followed his lead. He opened his mouth slightly and brought his other hand to Castiel’s shoulder, tightening the embrace.

And as much as the sensation of Castiel sucking his bottom lip weakened his knees, it was nothing compared to the feeling of Castiel sliding one hand inside Dean’s jacket and pulling him closer firmly, yet gently, which was enough to give his heart palpitations.

And the next thing Dean knew, he was nudged against the door, as Castiel glued himself to him, easing his hands on him. Welcoming his exploring hands, Dean let go of Castiel’s tie and slid his hand to the back of Castiel’s neck, thus leaving no obstructions for Castiel.

After a smooth slick of the tongue, Castiel moved his mouth on Dean’s jawline, causing Dean to let out a soft moan.

Castiel exuded confidence as though he knew exactly what to do. As though he had reflected on the matter many times before and had therefore already decided what he would do, should an occasion such as this one ever occur between him and Dean.

And then, Castiel’s warmth, his hands, his mouth, his tongue—all of it—left Dean in an instant, when a thunder of applause was heard coming from inside and brought them back to reality.

It had happened so abruptly that it had felt like a punch in the gut.

Mildly confused, they stared at each other, both catching their breaths, as they quickly fixed their clothes.

Processing what had just happened, Dean was craving for Castiel’s thoughts. Besides straitening his jacket, his general composure and face were unreadable to Dean. And while he knew that asking him—or speaking, really—would be a good place to start, it seemed that he was rendered completely speechless in that moment.

Thus, without any additional comment from either of them, they sneaked back inside, as the applause of the crowd was slowly dying down.

With Mr. Styne's speech over, the room had returned to its previous chitchat, and to Dean’s relief, not a soul appeared to have noticed their absence. Sheriff Jody Mills was laughing over the buffet with Bobby Singer. Andy Gallagher was sweet-talking to his date, who was none other than Max Banes. And Frank Devereaux was in deep discussion with Ash and Charlie about something techy-savy, no doubt, thought Dean.

And Castiel, quiet as ever, conveyed his usual deadpan expression. Dean tried his best to not perceive it as a sign that he was utterly unaffected by their kiss.

But knowing that he had to act straight away, for he had no desire to let Castiel slip through his fingers after what had just happened, Dean turned towards him and reached gently for his arm.

“Cas,” he said, after clearing his throat, “um, I—I was wondering if—”

“Ah! There you are!” someone said gleefully.

Startled by this interruption, Dean choked on his unfinished sentence and felt his stomach drop once he realized who was standing next to them.

“Cain.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” he said as he kissed him on both cheeks. He was wearing his most dashing suit, standing properly with a radiant smile. “I know, I know! I’m late…I remember you mentioning how uneasy you feel at these events. My apologies. But see? You had nothing to worry about. I knew you’d be able to fend for yourself.”

And then his eyes fell on Castiel, who simply stood there, expressionless and seemingly unperturbed.

“And whom do we have here? Dean, who’s your friend?”

“Um, this is Cas. Castiel Novak, he’s—”

“The veterinarian, of course,” said Cain, extending his hand and smiling earnestly.

Castiel did the same and they exchanged greetings.

“Dean, you must come with me,” said Cain. “I was talking to Miss Knight and she informed me that she has issues with her Pomeranian. She is requesting your opinion on the manner.”

Dean looked at Castiel, helpless at what to do. Cain, assessing Dean’s uneasiness, then added, “Oh, Mr. Novak, please, you are most welcome to join us.”

But before Castiel could answer, his phone buzzed. One look at Castiel was all Dean needed to know what it was concerning and that his night was now over.

“Is Jack okay?”

Castiel swallowed. He gave Dean a firm nod, and while his posture had remained intact, a hint of worry had been discernible in his eyes.

“He’s fine. He simply wants to go home.” He turned to Cain and said, “My apologies. I must leave. It was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise.”

He wished them both goodnight, ready to finally leave the party.

But right before walking away, his eyes lingered on Dean, and this very briefly, as if he hadn’t intended to, and as soon as it had happened, he dashed towards the hallway.

And down to his last atom, Dean fought the urge to run after him, as he felt his heart grow heavy with every step Castiel took.


	4. Chapter Four: An Odd Morning

Waiting for the kettle to whistle, Castiel watched the snow falling in his back yard through the kitchen window. Still in his pajamas, he was not ready to get on with the day.

He had slept terribly.

Grateful that bringing Jack back home hadn’t been an issue once he had arrived at Eliot’s house, he had nonetheless been worried that something unpleasant had happened. Eliot’s parents had assured him that they had simply contacted him because Jack had voiced his wish to return home.

No tears. No fight. And quite surprisingly to Castiel, not one mention of the Belphegor drama, either.

Simply his son having a change of heart and desiring to come home. And considering that Castiel had shared the same desire for most of _his_ evening, he couldn’t really hold it against him.

And then, he wondered if perhaps that was where the problem originated in the first place, and with that, he was now officially worried he was transferring his own issues onto his son.

Sighing deeply, he reminded himself of the conversation he had had with his son the night before on their way back home. And since Jack hadn’t expressed any discomfort on the matter, had been in a perfectly good humor when he picked him up, and also had answered every question his father had asked him truthfully, as much as Castiel could tell, Castiel decided that he would let the matter rest for now.

Even if it still bothered him and he couldn’t help but worry about his son’s well-being, feeling somewhat helpless as he stood in his kitchen.

Regrettably, this was not the only issue Castiel was troubled with on that particular morning.

The second one was Dean, of course.

Or rather, the kiss they had shared the night before.

Which had been unexpected.

To say the least.

But in the best and nearly tortuous way.

Castiel had forgotten himself for a moment and had acted rashly, which was something he rarely did. And for good reason, especially considering what had happened the last time he had done so...

Needless to say, Castiel spent the better part of his night tossing and turning, unable to shut off his brain.

Jack. Belphegor. Christmas. Mistletoe.

Dean. Dean. Dean.

Dean.

Dean.

Dean.

But no matter what, his mind always circled back to one detail: Dean’s date.

Dean was dating someone. As he typically was and just as Castiel had suspected.

He therefore argued that there was really no point in agonizing himself over the kiss. After all, it had simply been executed under a cheesy and ridiculous holiday tradition.

While that might have been the truth, the fact remained that Castiel was still staring blankly at his kitchen window, unable to not think about said kiss. Done innocently or not, out of tradition or not, and harboring platonic feelings for Dean _or not_ , and regardless of Dean’s relationship status or not, the damn kiss evidently had meant something to Castiel.

Far more than he would like to admit.

Dean’s soft lips. His demanding touch. Contagious moans.

He nearly quivered at the thought.

And he couldn’t even recall having shared something that deeply with someone he had dated in the past.

A thought that was both sad and borderline worrisome.

He let out a deep sigh.

“Dad?”

Castiel turned around abruptly, surprised to find Jack in the kitchen with him. “Hey. What is it?”

“The kettle,” he said, pointing at the stove. “It’s screaming.”

He hadn’t even noticed it. He dashed to the stove and took it off the burner, as he shut it off. “Whistling, Jack. The kettle whistles. Not screaming,” he said, smiling.

He turned around to face him. His son was still in his pajamas as well.

“Good morning,” he said, walking towards him.

“Morning,” Jack replied, hugging him.

“Did you sleep well?”

Jack nodded. “You?”

“I’m okay,” he said, as Jack took his seat at the table.

“Are you tired?”

“Do I look tired?” asked Castiel, laughing.

Jack shrugged.

Castiel opened the door of the fridge, retrieved the orange juice container. He added cinnamon bread into the toaster quickly and poured a glass of orange juice for Jack.

“Thank you. Is it something special?” Jack asked once Castiel put it in front of him.

Castiel frowned at him. “What do you mean? The juice? It’s just orange juice. As usual. Why do you say that?”

“It’s in a mug,” pointed out Jack.

Castiel opened his mouth. “Right.”

“I like it,” said Jack, lifting the large mug carefully, taking a sip.

The toaster clicked and Castiel hastily grabbed the warm toast, put them on a plate, which he carried to the table, and began tending to his son’s toast in front of him.

Until Jack giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. You’re putting mustard on the cinnamon toasts. Won’t that taste funny, Dad?”

And Castiel immediately froze, only to realize, feeling quite foolish, that he was indeed spreading mustard all over the cinnamon toast.

He bit hard on his lips to not swear.

Thankfully, Jack found his mistake quite entertaining.

“I’m sorry, Jack. It seems that Daddy’s not fully awake yet.” And after a glance at the counter, he added, “And, of course, I’m afraid that was the last of the cinnamon bread. I know we usually keep it for Sunday morning, but I guess we’ll have to make due with cereal this morning. We can eat the sweet ones we keep for special late snacks. How does that sound?”

Jack nodded with a bright smile.

And then, Castiel groaned when he realized they were out of milk.

“You didn’t sleep well, did you?”

“Why do you say that?” he asked, closing the door of the fridge.

“Because you didn’t say so before.”

“I’m okay. I promise.”

Jack remained silent, his eyes on his father, while Castiel let out a deep breath. Relinquishing to the fact that today would obviously be one of those off days and that there was no point fighting against it, Castiel was then suddenly inspired by an idea.

“How about we do something out of the ordinary today?”

“Out of the ordinary?”

“Special.”

“Like the orange juice?”

“Of sorts.” Castiel took a seat at the small kitchen table. “How about we go eat breakfast somewhere?”

“Like at a restautant?”

“ _Restaurant_ ,” Castiel corrected him gently. “And yes. You can pick. Or we could also go to a drive-thru, or get takeout and bring it back here. We can even stay in our pajamas that way.”

Jack squinted at him. “Stay in our pajamas? We can’t do that. That would be silly.”

“Why not? I think it would be funny.”

Jack appeared tempted at the idea at first, but after pondering on it, he said, “Can we go eat at a restauta—restaurant?”

“If that’s what you want, then yes. We should change for that though.”

Thusly, about half an hour later, father and son, both now dressed, were muffling themselves in their winter coats. Once Castiel was satisfied that Jack was dressed warmly enough, with his thick scarf and mittens, and his adorable yellow beanie with Pikachu ears, Castiel opened the door, ready to leave the house.

“Oh, wait!” said Jack, dashing towards the kitchen. “I forgot.”

Castiel waited for him patiently with the door open, only to witness what he had suspected.

Jack trotted back to him.

Wearing his sunglasses.

“Belphegor wants to come, too.”

The Roadhouse, their favourite family restaurant, was packed, even for the usual large Sunday morning crowd. With a bit of patience, however, Castiel and Jack managed to score a large booth by the front window, courtesy, Castiel was sure, of Ellen, who always was supportive of Castiel.

Rid of their winter attires, Castiel and Jack studied the menu, even though they both knew perfectly well its contents. After a quick scan, Castiel settled on his usual eggs Benedict and set the menu aside, and got the pleasure of observing his son reviewing every item on the menu, as though he took the matter very seriously.

While wearing the sunglasses.

“Do you need help?”

Jack, sitting on the other side of the table, shook his head, still examining the menu.

Since bedtime stories not only occurred every night, but also that Castiel was an avid reader himself, which meant that Jack had often caught his father reading whenever he could, Jack had been eager to learn how to read at a very young age. Castiel had not forced the learning process, as he discovered very quickly that to do so was something often frowned upon by some teachers and other parents.

But it had seemed rather silly to him to stall his son if he truly desired to learn, especially if it was not too demanding for him.

And as it turned out, Jack had been a quick learner and was well advanced for his age.

But he still struggled with certain words, obviously.

And when he noticed that Jack was pursing his lips, as he often did when he stumbled upon an unknown word, Castiel was about to offer some assistance again.

But Ellen appeared with an orange juice and a coffee at that precise moment. “Here you go. I hope that’s okay. You guys are pretty standard with those.”

“Yes, thank you, Ellen.”

She also had brought some crayons for Jack, who immediately folded the menu and began drawing on the paper tablecloth.

“Ready to order?”

“I am. Jack?”

He nodded and pursued with his order, which consisted of waffles with fruits, all the while he was still focused on his drawing.

“And nougat on top, right?” asked Ellen.

“Yes, please!”

“You got it.” Ellen winked at him. “And Cas,” she asked, once she turned her attention to him. “Eggs Benedict?”

He couldn’t help but let out a sigh. “Am I so predictable?”

“No. You’re just a very loyal customer.”

“Well, you make it easy for us.”

She assured them that their meal would be ready soon enough, and after a warm smile, she headed towards the main counter.

And now Castiel was left with observing his son staring at him, wearing those insufferable glasses.

“Jack, can we put the sunglasses aside during breakfast?”

He stayed put for a second, and then slowly took off the sunglasses. Castiel extended his arm to grab them and stash them away for the time being, but Jack held on to them, and laid them delicately on the table, not far from the condiments.

“Belphegor wanted to come here,” he reminded him. “He says he’s happy. He liked your idea. He says thank you.”

“He’s very welcome. But why do the sunglasses need to be on the table?” asked Castiel. “I thought you said that as long as the sunglasses were with you, so was Belphegor.”

“I just like to see them. That’s how I know he can visit if he wants to.”

Addressing the Belphegor issue hadn’t truly been Castiel’s intention that morning, especially not in the middle of a restaurant, but seeing him like this, Castiel thought now was as a good a time as any.

So, after shifting in his seat, he said to his son, “And why is that? Why do you think Belphegor is here all the time?”

Jack shrugged. “He just likes us,” he said, heavily focused on his drawing.

Castiel sighed at this unsatisfactory explanation and let his stare shift around them. Tamara and Isaac were laughing together. Best friends Zeddmore and Spengler were giving their order to Jo, with a clear display of heart-eyes for her, which she seemed to be unimpressed with. The Cuevas appeared to be sharing their breakfast and in deep discussion with Pastor Jim at the counter, while Donna Hanscum and Sarah Blake were ardently listening to Pamela Barnes, who talked energetically with big gesticulation, laughing wholeheartedly.

And then Castiel’s eyes fell on Dean, who was at the counter, putting his wallet back in his pocket, nodding to Ellen. She moved on to the next customer and Dean, leaning on the counter, turned to scan the room as he waited for his order, no doubt, and almost immediately met Castiel’s eyes.

And his stare froze on him.

He repositioned himself, quickly fixed his jacket, and shyly lifted his hand to salute him.

Castiel smiled and waved at him.

Biting on his lips, Dean shifted on his feet for a moment, glanced at Ellen, and after a short hesitation, he left the counter and began walking slowly towards Castiel’s and Jack’s booth.

Once Dean had reached it, he and Castiel simply stared at each other.

Silently. Unable to say anything. Unable to decide what to say.

“Hello, Dean! Belphegor says hi, too,” said Jack.

Which snapped them both out of it.

Dean turned to Jack, clearing his throat. “Hey, kiddo. And, um, hi back, Belphegor.”

And nearly lingering as much as he could, Dean’s eyes inevitably returned to Castiel. A moment of awkwardness passed, until Dean finally said, “So, you guys are enjoying your morning out?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Castiel. Who, for the life of him, couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

“Daddy had a weird morning.”

Dean frowned, looking at Jack. “What?”

“It’s, um, just one of those days,” explained Castiel. Wanting to change the subject, he asked, “What about you, Dean? What brings you here this morning?”

But before Dean could answer, Jack asked him, “How come you’re not sitting at a table? If it’s because there aren’t any left, you can sit with us.”

Dean opened his mouth, but shut it rapidly, lowering his eyes. “That’s really nice of you to invite me, Jack. I’d like to, but I’m—I’m actually just waiting for my order. I got takeout for Sam and me to bring back. Don’t think Sam would be very happy with me if I left him starving,” he said, laughing.

Ignoring the weight of disappointment Castiel felt at Dean’s words, he then heard himself say, “You’re welcome to stay here until your order is ready.”

Dean promptly nodded, beaming at him. “I guess I could do that if that’s okay with you guys.”

And before Castiel could do anything, Jack immediately pushed himself down the booth, leaving room for Dean to sit beside him.

Dean glanced at Castiel, and he nodded to him. “Please.”

He took his seat next to Jack and glanced at his drawing, until he spotted the sunglasses at the end of the table.

“So, Belphegor doesn’t mind that I’m sitting here with you guys?”

Jack, not lifting his eyes from his drawing, shook his head. “He likes you.”

“He does?”

Jack nodded. He then stopped drawing and turned to him. “I think the way he said it was that he thinks you’re gorgeous.”

Castiel choked on his coffee.

It had been such a random comment and Jack had said it so nonchalantly, that Castiel nearly started laughing. And judging by Dean’s expression, he hadn’t been the only one surprised by his words.

“I—um, that’s—um, nice of him.”

Seeing Dean mildly flustered, Castiel suddenly reconsidered his opinion of Belphegor.

“Don’t you think it’s true, Dad? Isn’t Dean gorgeous?”

And then again, maybe he had spoken too soon, thought Castiel. Knowing full well that there was no point in lying, as stating anything less than this was definitely a lie, Castiel shifted in his seat, and said, “He is, Jack. I happen to agree with Belphegor.”

Which granted him a stunned and warm look from Dean.

Not believing he had actually said it out loud—and to Dean’s face—Castiel pressed himself to say, aware that he wasn’t being fair by not giving Dean any time to reply, “How was the rest of the evening last night?”

Whatever twinkle that had been present in Dean’s eyes a moment ago, instantly vanished. He leaned back in his seat and said, “It was fine. Nothing much to report. After you left, I mean.”

“No?”

“Just regular stuff. Bicklebee danced with Bass, which made a lot of people lift some eyebrows.”

“I can imagine,” said Castiel, laughing as he visualized the scene.

“Oh, and at some point,” continued Dean, “Richie was drinking straight from the chocolate fountain, due to a stupid dare with Garth.”

“I thought you said not much happened when I left,” said Castiel, amused.

“Okay, maybe a few things happened after all.” Dean paused, and looking straight at him, he then said, “But it wasn’t the highlight of the night, though. Not by a long shot.”

And Castiel pretty much died on the spot.

And they simply stared at each other. In silence. And just as Castiel was overtaken by the sudden urge to reach for Dean’s hand, right there and out in the open, he caught himself in check at the last second.

Remembering important details.

Like Cain.

Among many other things.

So, instead of sliding his hand towards Dean, he reached out for his cup of coffee and Dean lowered his eyes, looking almost disappointed.

“Is something wrong?”

Jack, no longer focused on his drawing, was watching them with his head slightly tilted to the right.

Feeling somewhat exposed by his comment, both men laughed nervously.

“What? No.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Castiel.

Jack bounced his eyes back and forth between them.

“Belphegor says that you’re both acting strange. And I think so, too.”

Castiel had to repress a groan at the realization that his son and his _imaginary friend_ were onto him.

“Did you have a fight?” asked Jack.

“No. Of course not.”

“Everything is okay, buddy, don’t worry,” Dean assured him.

Jack observed them a moment more, seemingly trying to discern the lie. He glanced at the glasses, and just as Castiel was bracing himself for another awkward revelation from Belphegor, Jack simply returned to his drawing, and said, “Okay.”

Both relieved that they had convinced Jack that there wasn’t any bad blood between them, Castiel and Dean locked eyes again.

Just long enough for Castiel to reconsider everything. To notice Dean’s freckles.

And his bottom lip tremble.

But they stayed silent and Ellen arrived with Jack and Castiel’s meals, and even Dean’s doggy bag, which she slid in front of him. “You staying, Dean?” she said.

He paused for a moment, as if he was weighing his options, but shook his head. “Can’t. I have to return to work.”

“That’s unfortunate,” said Ellen.

“Yeah. Timing keeps getting in the way.”

“All right. Well, let me know if you change your mind,” and she smiled at them, and then returned to the counter.

Dean swallowed hard and stood up. He zipped his coat properly, grabbed his bag and wished them a good meal.

“You too, Dean,” said Jack, as he poured syrup on his waffles.

Dean and Castiel exchanged one last silent look, as Castiel resisted the urge to say something, fearing he might regret it later on, and after a nod, Dean walked away from their table.

With Dean gone, Castiel repositioned himself on his seat, determined to focus on his son and their breakfast.

He took one sip of his coffee and grabbed his utensils. “Do you need me to cut your waffle for you?”

Biting on his lip, Jack nodded.

As he was cutting Jack’s waffles, he noticed that his son was examining him with attention. Not him cutting his waffles, but rather him, Castiel.

“Something on your mind?” asked Castiel.

“No. Just—” and then he stopped talking.

“What?”

“Just that Belphegor says that you should end your waltz of shilly-shallying already.”

Castiel stopped what he was doing and shot his son a curious look, as he chuckled at his comment.

Wondering where on earth his son could have possibly come up with such a notion (or vocabulary), he said, “Jack, do you even know what that means?”

And with a straight face, he said, “Is he wrong?”

And Castiel let out a deep sigh and continued tending to his son’s waffles.

Preferring to not answer.

“What the hell happened to you?”

Dean frowned. “What? What do you mean?”

“Um, you’ve been complaining about food since you arrived this morning. When we finally got a break, you bolted out of here to do something about it and you’ve just been staring into space for the past ten minutes. You haven’t even taken one bite of your breakfast yet.”

“Right.” He opened his container and picked up his utensils. “Just, um, spaced out.”

Noticing that Sam had devoured half of his breakfast already, Dean promptly started chewing on his bacon.

Something was off though. He paused and glanced around them. “Where’s Whiskey? And Gamgee?”

Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Krissy came by earlier,” he said, seemingly concerned. “She was on her way to the dog park and offered to bring them with her. You, um, agreed.”

Dean gave Sam a firm nod, now remembering.

“They should be back soon. Are you okay?”

Determined to act as if everything was normal, Dean continued eating with his eyes glued on his breakfast in the hope that Sam would drop the issue.

But Sam, unfortunately for Dean, did no such thing.

“What happened?” he repeated.

“Nothing.”

“Uh-huh. Spill.”

“I just ran into Cas at the Roadhouse. That’s all.”

“Okay, and? You’re still out of it. More than usual.”

Dean tightened his lips and bit on his bacon. And took his time to chew, stalling his answer.

“Dean?”

And then, he made the mistake of glimpsing at his brother.

Sam held a stern look. One that often rendered Dean nervous.

“I fucked up,” he said, caving in. “Okay? I think. I—I’m not sure.”

“How? You were at the diner for twenty minutes. What could you possibly have done?” asked Sam, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Um, not at the diner. I mean—I—something happened at the—yesterday. Cas showed up at the Stynes’ house.”

Sam dropped his mug on his desk. “And you’re only telling me this now?”

Dean nodded and took a big bite of his toast.

“What happened? Did you do something? What—you did something, right?”

“Um, sort of, yes.”

Sam remained quiet, waiting for Dean to elaborate.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to escape it now, Dean cleared his throat, and recounted his previous evening to his brother. He kept the tale short and to the point, particularly the part involving the mistletoe.

“…and then he got a call and he had to leave. He said goodbye and, um, he left.”

Sam stared at him for a long minute, until he finally said, “And you didn’t stop him?”

Dean shook his head.

“Or went after him?” continued Sam. “Ask for his number—I mean, I get it’s somewhat silly as you technically already have his number, but you know what I—Dean! Why did—you just let him leave?”

Dean let his head dropped in frustration. “I know! I told you, I fucked up. I—Cain was right there, like I said. And even then, Cas needed to leave. And I—I just froze. I don’t know how—what he thought about—it was just a kiss. Tradition wise.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, one: talking to him would have helped clarifying his views on that detail, Dean. I don’t think I need to tell you that. And second, _tradition_ , my ass.” He paused, sighing deeply and then asked, “What happened at the diner?”

“Nothing. It was…awkward. I don’t know,” said Dean, suddenly exhausted.

“He didn’t mention anything about last night?”

“Not exactly, no. I brought it up, but since Jack was there, we couldn’t exactly speak openly. And even then…and now I feel like it’s even more complicated. And it already was.”

Sam snorted. “It’s actually not. It’s all in your head.”

Dean was about to retort something to his brother, but argued against it, and stabbed a potato with his fork instead.

Sam observed him for a moment, slid his now empty container aside and leaned forward on his desk. “Dean, real talk here. Why are you stalling about this? Why have you stalled on this for this long?”

Dean’s only reply was to chew on his food.

“Is it because you’re friends? Because, Dean, I really doubt Cas will be offended if you say that you’re interested.”

“That’s not it. I mean, it’s part of it, but not the—that’s not the problem.”

“Then what is it?” asked Sam in a genuine tone.

Dean took a deep breath. “I’ve given him hints—some were subtle—but not all of them, and I got nothing back. I—I just don’t think he’s interested.”

“But, Dean—”

“And there’s—there’s other stuff too,” continued Dean, cutting him off. “But it’s—anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

They remained silent for a short while. Dean ate his breakfast slowly, even though his appetite had definitely left him, while Sam mulled things over.

“Is this about what people—some people—are saying?” he said. “About—”

“It’s about a few things, Sam. And about—I try not to listen to—it doesn’t seem completely out there, or even bad, far from it, but I—I still prefer not paying attention to it. And in the end, it doesn’t change anything.”

“Except giving you the crippling fear of making a move for the past…I don’t know, how long has it been?”

Dean groaned.

“Thanks for the reminder.”

And Dean angrily continued eating, discouraged at everything.


	5. Chapter Five: A Neighborly Advice

Castiel and Jack (as well as Belphegor) enjoyed the rest of their day together. Despite his peculiar morning, Castiel managed to be quite productive in the afternoon. He caught up on most of his paperwork, precooked some meals for the upcoming week and did a couple of loads of laundry.

And he and Jack even got started with their Christmas decorations, including the biggest part: the tree.

They ate a delicious early dinner (spaghetti and meatballs), and Castiel was convinced that, after their tiresome afternoon, they would both crash with full bellies.

But to his surprise, they did not. Instead, they were both gifted with an increase of energy and Castiel’s mind became restless more than ever.

Given the mild weather and that the evening was barely settling, Castiel then had the idea to take a short car ride to the park not far from the bakery, so they could get cinnamon bread afterwards.

Before leaving, however, Castiel, keeping his neighborly promise to Rowena, opted to begin helping her with her Christmas lights, while Jack played in the sticky snow on the front lawn and within his sight.

“Thank you so much, Castiel.”

“It’s no problem,” he said, moving the ladder to his left, before climbing back on it. “I thought I’d take care of one set of lights tonight before heading off. I’m nearly done already.”

“I’ll get your cider, then,” she said, hurrying inside, as she grabbed the small empty cup Jack had drank from earlier.

And soon after, once Castiel had finished with the lights, Rowena handed him a warm cup of apple cider in return for his help. Wrapped in a thick shawl to keep herself warm, she hung a lovely wreath on her front door. She then stepped back, standing next to him, admiring her work.

“It’s beautiful,” said Castiel.

“Thank you. One of _me_ own design,” she said, winking at him.

“Of course,” he said, laughing.

“So,” she said, loud enough so Jack could hear her, “where are you two darlings up to now?”

“The park!” yelled Jack, busy building a snowman.

“That’s great,” she answered him with enthusiasm. And once she was satisfied that he appeared focused on his task, she then turned to Castiel and asked in a low voice, “And after the park? You got any plans?”

Castiel frowned. “Like what?” He took a sip from his mug and felt an instant, comforting warmth spreading through his whole body as if by magic.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, smiling at the corner of her mouth. She picked up her cup that she had laid on the balustrade of her porch. “But I may have heard a wee bit of something about you and a certain dashing Dean Winchester…”

Castiel froze. “Like what?”

Rowena smirked at him.

“What did you hear?” he asked, now partially worried to be holding a warm beverage. “Rowena? What—is this about…last night?”

“Last night? What happened last night?” she asked, now utterly invested.

“Nothing,” he blurted out. “I’m simply asking—I—what are you referring to?”

Obviously, she did not buy into his blabbering. “Wait. You mean to tell me that something happened?” she asked, all smile.

“That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what it sounded it like, Castiel. Now, please. I would like to know.”

Castiel lowered his eyes and took another sip of his drink.

At his stubborn silence, Rowena rolled her eyes and said, “All _I_ was going to say is that there has been something growing between you two. Everybody can see it. You’ve always been friends, but you also had this thing—bound, possibility, attraction, whatever you want to call it—hovering over your heads, making you more than just friends. It’s obvious. And I—I was simply suggesting,” continued Rowena, “that, perhaps, it was about time your bloody waltz of shilly-shallying ended already.”

And Castiel gaped at her. “You,” he breathed, incredulous. “You’re the one who told Jack? I wondered where he’d heard that from. Rowena, I know you’re trying to help, but what are you doing telling this to my son?” He wasn’t angry, but he had adopted a more serious tone.

“Actually, dear, I don’t mean to alarm you, but _he_ ’s the one who told _me_ about it,” she said, amused. They both turned to Jack’s direction, watching him roll the large snowball, which was now nearly half his size. “I was quite impressed,” she continued, “with both his insight and vocabulary. Or at the very least, _Belphegor_ ’s. And I’m glad he shared it with you, too.”

Castiel leaned on one leg as he observed her, deciding if he believed her or not.

“Really? You’re sure he’s the one who said it to you and not the other way around?”

“Oi! Really, yes! You think I’d blame my mischief on your sweet angel?”

“No,” he said, taking another sip of his cider. “I know you wouldn’t. But then it means that…what? If you didn’t tell him, then it implies that he figured it out himself because I’m not sheltering him at all from my drama like I thought I—and where on earth did he come up with that expression?”

He let out a deep sigh.

“Isn't it obvious? Belphegor told him, of course.”

And Castiel shot her an annoyed look.

Which she ignored by saying, “You still haven’t told me what happened last night.”

For a short second, Castiel was tempted to say, “A mistake.” But he bit on his lips to keep himself quiet. The truth was that he was still on the fence about the night before. Doubts were multiplying. The more he reflected on the matter, the more confused he became, making it impossible for him to draw a conclusion.

Shilly-shallying, indeed, he thought.

“Just—I don’t mean to pry,” she said in a very dignified manner, “but I don’t understand why you are both obstinate about this.”

“It’s complicated for many reasons.”

“I’m all ears,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.

He paused a moment, weighing on his words. “Dean and I, we are friends, as you said. That is a big concern for me. I don’t have many of those. A single father doesn’t have the time or the luxury to have many of those.” He then urgently added, panicking, “I—I’m not saying it’s Jack’s fault or—”

And before he could finish his sentence, Rowena lifted her hand to stop him. “I didn’t think you had, dear. I know how it is.”

Mildly horrified how his last comment might have sounded, he took a deep breath to recover. “I was simply stating that…Dean means a lot to me and I don’t want to ruin what we have. And I—I do come with baggage. More than most. It would be unfair to—to—well, to Jack…and Dean, too. And he, Dean, I mean, I don’t think he knows—or that he’s in for—not that I think badly of—I, myself—I—”

But once more, as he tripped on his words, Rowena lifted her hand dramatically to cut him off.

“Castiel, I know where you’re going with this, but considering how long you two have been turning around this, don’t you think Dean took the time to reflect upon it himself? And even if he might not know _everything_ , and that it is impossible to predict how things will turn out, the fact remains that there is only one way to find out.”

And her answer was both wise and unfortunate, thought Castiel.

“So?” she asked. “Are you going to do something about it?”

“Do you want to come with us to the park, Rowena?” asked Jack, who had now joined them on her porch, saving Castiel from answering. He took hold of his father’s hand and looked at her, smiling.

“I would love to darling, but sadly I can’t,” she said. “I have plans this evening and I must get ready. But next time, if that’s all right?”

Jack nodded.

“I guess that’s my cue,” said Castiel, pointing at Jack. He gave her back her mug and assured her he would tend to the rest of the lights within a day’s time.

“Bye, Rowena,” said Jack, waving his little mitten in tandem with his father as they walked to the car.

“Goodbye, sweethearts.” She waved at them and stepped back inside.

The park was empty and Castiel was left to his thoughts while he watched Jack on the swings, swinging on his own, as he kept insisting that he was able to do it by himself.

Belphegor’s input, well founded or not, bothered Castiel immensely. More than confirming his ambivalence about Dean, it was also undeniable proof that his infatuation for him had grown so much out of control that his own son had even noticed it.

Had reflected on it.

In depth.

Enough to have a fully formed opinion on the matter.

And the fact that Castiel was realizing this—just now—was not a reassuring thought for him. He might have not neglected his son, but his lack of focus made him feel guilty.

As Rowena had said, something needed to be done. He simply wasn’t sure who had the most sensible advice. And it was in troubling moments like these that Castiel would have done just about anything in exchange for one word of wisdom from Kelly. She always had been the more reasonable one of the two, and she had always succeeded in saying the right thing.

But long gone were the days when Castiel could seek out the guidance of his old friend.

Thus, he sighed deeply, resigned to the idea of making his decision later on.

Wishing to reach the bakery before it closed, he called Jack and they ambled down the road, as he listened to his son telling him another idea for a Christmas present.

Once their errand was done, with a fresh loaf of bread in hand and on their way to the car, Castiel slowed down his pace when he noticed the lights at the Winchester’s Pet Groomer were still on.

Through the front window, he discerned Dean, typing away at the front desk.

And right there, despite all his rationalization, Castiel felt the sudden urge to rush towards him.

“Do you mind if we stop at one more place before going back home?” Castiel asked his son.

Jack smiled and shook his head. And needing no additional information and still holding his father’s hand, Jack immediately marched towards the Winchester’s Pet Groomer.

Castiel, laughing, stopped him, however, as he remained on his spot, still holding his hand. “Jack, wait a minute.” He shot one last look down the street before turning his eyes on his son.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Castiel. “I—I was just wondering…should we bring Sam and Dean some hot chocolate?”

His eyes widened. “Can I have one too?”

“Of course. A small one. We’ll get one for everyone,” he said as they set off towards the coffee stand at the street corner.

“Even Whiskey and Gamgee?” asked Jack, which made Castiel laughed.

And so, less than ten minutes later, carrying a tray filled with four hot chocolates, Castiel pushed the door open, aided by Jack, as they were eagerly greeted by Whiskey.

Dean, who was standing behind the front desk, looked stunned to see them there.

With Jack busy petting Whiskey and Gamgee, who had trotted avidly to the door too, Castiel advanced slowly to the desk.

“Hi,” said Dean, grinning. “To what do I owe this visit? And what’s this?” he said, pointing at the tray.

“Last minute errand and we noticed you were still here. I—since you two seem to be burning the midnight oil, I thought hot chocolates would cheer you up. There’s one for Sam, too.”

“That’s—you didn’t have to do this. Thank you.”

Castiel bit on his lip. “I felt like it.”

And much like they had done on that same morning, they stared at each other quietly for a long minute.

Castiel, even if still hesitant, then began saying, “Dean, I—I was wondering if—”

And then, of course, because life was like this sometimes, his phone buzzed.

Without finishing his sentence, he quickly reached for his phone in his pocket. It was the clinic’s number. He frowned and ignored it.

“I—I—what I was saying was that—”

And his phone buzzed once more.

He shut his eyes. “Sorry, I—” he said, reaching for his phone again. Another missed call from the clinic. Twice in a row and at this hour, Castiel deduced it had to be important.

“I have to take this, is it—can you just give me a minute?”

Dean nodded and joined Jack, who was apparently trying to make Whiskey and Gamgee do tricks, in the meantime.

Castiel’s phone call was not a pleasant one. It seemed that Samandriel, who was covering the emergency clinic that night, had had to leave due to an emergency of his own, one concerning a family member.

Usually, another of Castiel’s co-workers, Benjamin, who was incredibly nice and accommodating, nearly always accepted to step in when a situation such as this one would occur late at night, knowing that Castiel had a young child to tend to.

Castiel was tremendously grateful for his understanding and made sure to repay him the favour whenever Benjamin requested a day off.

As for that particular night, however, if Samandriel was reaching out to Castiel, it implied that he already had visited the other alternative, without much success.

Evidently, it had happened before that Castiel had to find a last minute babysitter. To Castiel’s eternal gratitude, Rowena often watched over Jack when she could. Castiel had also relied on the help of Maggie’s parents in the past, but obviously this was no longer an option. Since their departure, quite miraculously, Castiel had managed to dodge such evening emergencies. But it appeared that he had finally run out of luck.

There was a service that offered assistance from professional and respectful people if a last minute sitter was needed. But they were expensive and Castiel wasn’t too keen on leaving Jack alone with someone he had never met before.

“What’s wrong?”

Dean had left Jack’s side and was now standing in front of Castiel.

“Um, I’m sorry. I—we have to leave. I need to head to work. Emergency.”

“Does that mean Rowena will come over?” asked Jack.

“I don’t think so,” he said, remembering that she had mentioned having plans. Mildly panicking, he took a deep breath, contemplating the idea of bringing Jack with him.

“I’ll look after Jack.”

Castiel blinked. “Dean, no. I can’t ask you to do that. That’s not—”

“I’m offering. If it’s okay with you. And Jack, of course,” he added, turning to him.

“Yes!” his son cheered with his arms in the air. “Please, Dad!”

Castiel, holding his breath, studied Dean for a second. “You really don’t have to do this. I don’t even know until—I feel bad, I—you already had a long day and—”

“Cas, stop,” said Dean softly. “I want to.”

“Dad, please. Belphegor says it’s a good idea.”

“Well, well, well. You heard that?” A cocky smile formed itself on Dean’s face. “Belphegor thinks it’s a good idea. That makes it three against one. Of course, being _Dad_ , you have the final say.”

Castiel let out a laugh.

He hesitated briefly, and after one glimpse at his son, who was staring at him with pleading eyes, Castiel caved in. “All right. But only if you don’t mind, Dean.”

“It’s my pleasure, Cas.”

And Castiel exhaled in relief. “Thank you,” he said earnestly as he shoved his phone in his pocket. “As I said, I don’t have all the details yet, but considering I’m to cover Samandriel’s shift, it will probably be very late. I might be able to come back earlier than that—I’ll know more once I get there.”

“Okay. But don’t worry if you don’t,” Dean assured him.

“Is it okay if you two head over to my place once you’re done here?”

“Yup. I’ll check with Sam, but I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to leave in half an hour at most.” He then froze as he considered something. “Um, is it okay if Whiskey comes, too? She can stay outside if that’s a problem.”

“Not an issue,” he said, smiling as Whiskey wiggled her tail. “Do you remember where we live?”

“Yeah. Lazarus Street. Right?”

Castiel nodded. “Okay, um, there’s a key hidden under one of the angels on the porch. Jack knows which one.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow and nodded. “Got it.”

“Jack already ate. If he’s still hungry, he can eat a fruit as a snack. There’s plenty of food in the fridge, help yourself to anything you want.”

He gave Dean a few additional instructions, including about Jack’s bedtime routine, to which Dean listened to very carefully.

Hugging his son goodbye, Castiel told Jack to listen to Dean, and as he headed towards the door, Castiel tried as best he could to not see this as a trial.

For any of them.

Because that would be unfair.

One hand on the door handle, he said, “If there’s a problem, all my numbers—well, you know where to call me.”

“Yup. And it’s going to be fine.”

Castiel smiled at him.

And just before leaving, he added, “Oh, um, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Please, don’t judge me too much on the state of my house.”


	6. Chapter Six: The Novak's Home

“This is the living room. And this is our couch where we sit to watch movies when Dad is tired. This is our Christmas tree that we made today. That’s Dad’s bookshelf. He has a lot of those. That’s the kitchen where we eat. But sometimes Dad agrees to eat in the living room during the weekend if we are watching something special on the television. Or because a lot of his papers are on the table. I sometimes work with him, too.”

“What kind of work?” asked Dean.

“My homework. Dad helps while the food gets ready. And when I don’t have any homework and I just want to be with Dad, I stay here and do puzzles or draw next to him. He puts music on. He likes listening to music when he works.”

The moment Dean, Jack and Whiskey had entered the Novak’s residence, Jack had eagerly given Dean and Whiskey a tour of the house, tugging him room from room, while he held his hand.

Dean had always liked the appearance of Castiel’s house.

A pale blue, two-story house, surrounded by a large porch, and next to a tall maple tree. It had seemed cozy and inviting to him, every time he had passed by it.

Like when he had driven Jack and Castiel home so they wouldn’t have to walk in the deadly heat of the summer, or when they had gotten caught in the heavy rain once.

Even though Dean and Castiel had been friends for years, Dean, simply due to circumstances, had never set foot in Castiel’s house before.

And he had always been curious about it.

And the moment he had finally stepped inside that house, Dean had not been able to stop smiling. It smelled like pine and cranberries. And something else that Dean couldn’t quite figure out. The place was warm. Cozy. Lived-in. It wasn’t messy, but it didn’t appear _too_ aesthetically perfect either, like it was about to be shot for a home and garden magazine.

Or as though an entire cleaning staff was tending to the house.

Some toys were scattered across the living room. Castiel’s sweaters were left on the back of the couch. And on the ramp of the stairs, next to Jack’s school backpack. Stacks of books were out of order in Castiel’s bookshelf. And by the couch. And by the windows, too.

A basket of clean laundry appeared to be half folded on one of the couches.

And a coffee mug, still full, rested on the side table.

The home had a familiar vibe, which made Dean feel instantly comfortable.

Jack showed him their Christmas decorations in depth. A wreath hung on the patio door leading to their backyard. Cheery colorful Christmas lights were in the windows and some doorways. And homemade beautiful stars were also hanging from the high ceiling throughout nearly the entire first floor, which had rendered Dean quite breathless.

“Did you guys made these yourselves?” he asked Jack.

“Yes. We did this two Christmases ago and Dad liked them so much that he agreed to keep them there even after Christmas. Now we just add some red and green ones to the ones already there during the holidays.”

Hurrying up the stairs, with Whiskey trotting behind him, Jack then said, “Come! I’ll show you my room!”

It took Dean a moment to walk away, as he continued staring at the stunning ceiling. Once he reached the second floor, he turned to the first room to his right and found Jack in his bedroom, showing Whiskey his toys.

The dog was sitting in front of him, listening attentively.

Jack’s room was adorable, thought Dean. He had his own bookshelf, which appeared to be filled with adventure books, as Dean recognized most of the titles from Sam’s own bookshelf and promised himself to mention this fun fact to his brother later on.

And then, he noticed the walls. None were of the same color and they all had impressive wallpaper. One was a gorgeous galaxy. Another displayed a large tree and a moon. And another was an odd mixture of colors.

And after further examination, Dean realized that none of it was wallpaper, but actual paint.

“Did you guys do that too? Like the stars?”

Jack nodded. “I like space and stars so Dad thought we could try to recreate some,” he said, pointing at the galaxy. “Rowena added the details that made it pretty. And that one, the tree was already there,” he said, pointing at the other wall, “but I wanted to add a moon. Dad helped me.”

“And what about that one?” asked Dean, nodding towards the blue and green splatter of colors that resembled a Jackson Pollock painting.

“We had fun,” was Jack’s reply. “Dad said it’s _obstruct_.”

Dean smirked. “Do you mean abstract?”

“Oh. Yes. That. Do you like it?”

“I think it’s awesome, Jack.” Glancing around, taking in the whole room, Dean admired the oddness, yet originality, of the room.

His eyes then fell on the multiple frames resting on Jack’s dresser and Dean, curious, stepped over to have a closer look.

One photograph of Castiel and Jack baking together. One of Jack blowing candles on a nice R2D2 birthday cake. One of them building a sand castle.

Dean felt a smile growing on his face as he remembered that day. He had been present.

Another one was Castiel holding Jack as a baby, appearing to be completely at ease and apt for the task, all the while staring at his son as though he was the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Which made Dean like him even more. If that was possible.

And then, the next photograph was Castiel, with a bright smile, sitting next to a beautiful brunette.

A very _pregnant_ brunette. She had kind eyes and a genuine smile.

And another picture of them both building a crib.

Of her laughing at her poor attempt at knitting.

And finally, one of her and Castiel again, but she wasn’t pregnant. It was years before, when they were both incredibly young. Probably still teenagers, thought Dean.

“That’s my mom.”

Dean took a step back, realizing he had been staring at them. “She’s beautiful.”

“I think so, too. She looks happy.”

Dean had a million questions. He had heard many stories over the years, but he had always believed that going to the source, in this particular scenario, was the best policy to adopt. And yet, given the heaviness of the topic, he had never pressed Castiel for answers. He figured that since none of this was his business, Castiel would tell him if and when he felt comfortable doing so.

But here was Jack, tempting him with potential answers.

Jack picked up the picture of his parents.

“Dad says she was his _bestest_ friend.”

Dean didn’t have a problem believing this based on the photographs.

“She’s in heaven now.”

And even though this was no surprise to Dean, he still felt a pang in his chest at hearing Jack say it out loud and regretted that the topic had been broached all together. Saying he felt sorry sounded like an understatement.

But he said it anyway.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

And Jack stayed silent and put the frame back on his dresser.

“That’s why I’m happy you’re Dad’s friend.”

Dean had not expected this one.

“What do you mean?”

It took Jack a moment before answering, but he finally said, “Everyone needs a friend. Belphegor says it’s important to have friends.”

Although he had to agree with Belphegor on that one, Dean wasn’t entirely sure if what Jack was telling him was encouraging or not.

And then, after Jack proceeded in introducing Dean to his pet snake named Felix, whom Dean tried his best to appear not wary of, they left his room and Jack pursued his tour. Next to Jack’s room was a guest room, used as a storage room, and next to it was a full bathroom.

And at the end of the hall was another room.

“That’s Dad’s room.”

And before Dean could protest, Jack pushed the door wide open and rushed in. Dean hesitated a moment, not wishing to invade Castiel’s privacy.

He nonetheless took a few steps forward and scanned the room, making sure to stay in the doorway.

Bookshelves. A large armchair—nearly a love seat—tucked away in the corner of the room, under a lamp. Another basket of laundry.

And then his eyes fell on the bed. The thick covers. Fluffy pillows. A comfy-looking dressing gown rested at the foot of the bed. A few books were piled up on the left nightstand, next to another mug and an empty glass.

The nightstand on the right side of the bed was completely empty. Not even a lamp.

Coincidentally, this was the side of the bed that Dean slept on.

And, of course, the next thing he knew, he began imagining himself waking up to this. With Castiel snuggled up next to him. And with his hair—

And Dean reminded himself that there was a time and a place to let his imagination run wild, and that precise moment was perhaps not the best suited for it.

So, he told himself to get a grip, that this was just, in fact, a bedroom, and that he should probably step away before it got embarrassing.

Thus, Dean, Jack and Whiskey made their way back downstairs where they spent a quiet and nice evening. Aided by Jack on the location of the coffee beans, Dean made a small pot of coffee for himself. While the coffee was brewing, he fixed a bowl of water for Whiskey, and Jack shared the chocolate of his advent calendar with him. As it was such a small piece to begin with, Dean protested his offer, but Jack insisted, which Dean thought was incredibly sweet.

Looking for a spoon, Dean then came across a deck of cards in the drawer and suggested they play Go Fish, remembering how he and Sam played all the time as children. He was surprised to learn, however, that Jack had never played before.

“What game do you guys usually play with these, then?” he asked, tapping on the deck of cards. Adopting a playful tone, he added, “Is it poker?”

Jack frowned. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember the name, but I don’t think that’s it. We don’t play very often, but I usually play solitaire with these.”

Dean blinked. “You know how to play solitaire?” he asked, making sure he hadn’t added “already” at the end of his sentence, as he wondered if that was advanced for a six-year-old.

Jack nodded. “Dad taught me. So, if he’s busy, I can at least play on my own.”

Given that Jack was an only child, Dean reasoned that this made a lot of sense. Unlike him, Jack didn’t have siblings to occupy his time with (or annoy him, depending on the day) when his parents were busy. Or in Jack’s case, when his father was busy.

But Dean was now intrigued.

“And what about when your Dad plays with you? The other game you were talking about. Can you show me?”

And in the hour that followed, Jack taught Dean the Novak’s mysterious card game, which impressed Dean immensely. He had always known Jack to be a smart cookie, but this was something else. The kid was not only able to follow through a very complex game, but he had also been able to explain clearly the rules of said game to Dean.

Like a pro.

It was a long game, involving many hands, where Dean had to keep track of their points. Jack confessed that his father was typically in charge of this task, as well as shuffling the cards. And while Dean was more than happy to help, it wasn’t without his notice that Jack was still doing very well for his age. In fact, he had to admit that even if it was his first time playing the game, that six-year-old freaking owned him.

When Jack had won the fourth hand in a row, Dean said, “I’m going to have to practice to be able to play with you. You’re really good at this.”

“You’re just starting. I’m not that good. Dad is the best player.”

“Yeah?” said Dean as he shuffled the cards.

Jack nodded. He then said, quite nonchalantly, “How come you’ve never been here before?”

Dean froze, causing a few cards to fly out of his grasp. “Um, I’m not sure. It just never happened, I guess.”

“But you and Dad are friends. Friends visit each other. They have play dates and sleepovers.”

“That—that’s true,” he said, after clearing his throat. “But sometimes you can be friends in a different way. Especially when, um, when you’re a…”

“A grown up?”

“Yeah.”

Dean observed Jack, who remained silent for a good minute, sitting across the table and pondering on Dean’s words. And then, out of nowhere, Jack said, “I think Dad would like it if you visited more. Because he likes you.”

Dean lowered his eyes, feeling blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Well, I—I like him too.”

He shifted on his seat and distributed the cards to both of them. And then, fully aware that it was a question he should ask Castiel, and not his six-year-old son, Dean said, unable to resist, “Jack, when you say your Dad likes me, what—what do you mean?”

“That he’s happy when he sees you. And he smiles differently when you’re there too, but—” Jack stopped talking, turned his head to his left, and reached for the sunglasses which had been resting on the table. He didn’t pick them up. He simply twisted one of the temples between his fingers.

“But what?” said Dean.

Jack returned his gaze on Dean. “Belphegor says that Dad always looks happy when we’re about to see you. But that he has sad eyes after he does.”

“That’s what Belphegor says, huh?”

Jack nodded, staring at him.

Assessing that this was incredibly insightful and observant of _Belphegor_ , Dean figured he should set aside the topic of Castiel’s potential feelings for him and focus on Jack’s imaginary friend instead.

Since he was that perceptive and loquacious.

“Can I ask a question about Belphegor?”

He nodded.

“What does he look like?”

“Like me.”

Pausing, Dean then said, “Like…exactly like you? Like…your hair, height…”

“Pretty much. Except the eyes. He doesn’t have any.”

“What?” said Dean, mildly perturbed. “How—what does that look like? And why? I mean, I—is there a reason why he can’t see?”

“Oh, no. He still can see,” said Jack. “I don’t know how or why,” and then whispered, “he doesn’t like to talk about it,” only to continue in his normal tone of voice, “but he doesn’t need eyes to see. It’s just dark around here,” he said, waving his finger around his eyes, “almost like a mask and no eyes.”

Dean had no idea what to make of this.

“That’s why I wear the sunglasses,” added Jack. “He wears what I wear, so that way, whenever I wear them, nobody gets to notice that part of his face and it allows him to blend-in better in public.”

Fighting the urge to ask why someone who was invisible would feel the need to _blend-in_ , Dean moved on to another question. “And how did you two became friends? Like when did you two meet? It wasn’t that long ago, right?”

Jack shook his head. “This summer. But that’s—that’s sad.”

“It is? Why?”

“Because I only met Belphegor after Maggie left. She never got to meet him. I think she would have liked him.” 

“I’m sure she would have, too,” said Dean, now convinced that the two events were connected.

“Dean?”

“Yes?”

“What about you?”

“What about me what?”

“Belphegor says he’d like to know how you and Dad became friends.”

Dean opened his mouth and shut it a moment. “Your Dad didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head.

“Um, it was a few years ago.” He took a sip of his coffee, thinking on it. “Okay, I—maybe a little more than a few years. I—Sam and I had just opened our business.”

Jack tilted his head to the right. “You worked somewhere else before?”

“Yeah,” said Dean, laughing. “We used to work at this other grooming place across town. Jones’ Grooming. The owner was an old friend of my dad. Sam and I always liked the idea of getting our own place one day, and when Fred retired, we decided we should take our chances. We didn’t have enough money to buy his place, so we found another one we could afford. There were a few locations available for us, but we ended up choosing the one we are at now because it was close to an animal clinic.”

“Daddy’s?”

“Yup. We asked around and when we only heard good things about the place, we thought it would be a good idea. We visited the clinic to introduce ourselves, and that’s how I met your dad.”

“And then you were friends,” said Jack in a very matter-of-fact way.

“Well, um, yes. But I—we became _better_ friends with time. Your dad was very nice to us and he recommended our place to a lot of people. We did the same for him, but most people already knew the clinic as it had already been there for a few years. I suppose we became better friends when I got Whiskey. Your dad was very helpful to me whenever I had questions and he became her vet. Obviously, no one else would have done a better job.”

Jack frowned and looked at Whiskey who was lying on the floor next to him. “You didn’t have her before?” he said, as though it was troubling information. “I—I don’t remember you without her.”

“That’s because you were still very young then. But I—anyway, that’s how we met.”

“And became friends.”

“ _Friends_. Yes,” said Dean, trying not to sigh at the thought.

While Dean and Jack carried on with their game, Castiel, on the other hand, was becoming more restless with every passing minute. The clinic offered a twenty-four hour emergency service, the only one in town to do so. Which meant that at least one veterinarian needed to be on the floor at all times. This was not an issue during the day, but the night shifts were often problematic. Most nights were rather calm, but rarely dull, and this was more or less what Castiel had expected his night to be, given that it was Sunday.

But he turned out to be far more occupied than he had anticipated. On the one hand, it had been a welcomed distraction. It had allowed Castiel to focus on what was in front of him, instead of worrying at the visualization of Dean Winchester standing in his living room.

Especially when he recalled his unfolded laundry basket, right out in the open on the couch.

On the other hand, his busy schedule had made it impossible for him to take a moment and call Dean to check-in with them as he had intended. Upon his arrival, Castiel had been blessed with the good news that Anna, who co-owned the animal clinic with him, was to take over the rest of Samandriel’s shift later on. All Castiel had to do was to hold down the fort until eight o’clock, which was roughly around the time she would be able to free herself from her prior engagement.

That alone should have been enough to keep him in a cheerful state for the rest of the night.

But he then had the misfortune to deal with the owner of a limping German Sheppard. Lydia had noticed her dog limping when she had come back from work, whereas it had been perfectly fine when she had left in the morning. And now, as Castiel could attest, the dog was whining whenever someone would come close to it, so he ordered a set of x-rays, which shouldn’t take a long time.

Waiting for the results, Lydia was scanning the billboard in the waiting room. Most advertisement were reminders regarding pet care and shots, but they had allowed other things as well, such as advertisements for dog schools, pet sitters or dog walkers.

And of course, grooming services.

And the Winchester’s advertisement was smack in the middle of the billboard. Not that he had wanted to play favoritism, but Castiel had always made sure the flyer had remained visible.

But it turned out that this particular client was already acquainted with the brothers.

With one brother, specifically.

“Ah. _Winchester_.”

Castiel frowned. “You know the brothers?”

“Dean.” She turned around to face him and added, “I dated him. Sort of. What he considered dating, anyway.”

Castiel lowered his eyes to the computer screen and pretended to be focused on what he was reading for a moment.

“He’s a friend of mine,” Castiel heard himself say.

“Hmmm. I’d keep it at that if I were you. Probably for the best.”

He lifted his gaze, troubled by her last comment. “What do you mean?”

“He was…well, I suppose it depends on what you’re looking for. He’s very charming and… _friendly_. But if you’re looking for other qualities, like being dependable and committed…let’s just say he had one foot out the door the entire time.”

And even though Castiel knew that he shouldn’t base his opinion of Dean on someone he had just met, he still felt like she had ruined it. All the visualization he had had of Dean having fun with Jack was now replaced by the image of a pacing Dean, eagerly waiting for Castiel to come back so he could leave at once.

So he could return to his life.

And this, especially after experiencing a glimpse of what Castiel’s life was.

And he couldn’t really blame him, thought Castiel.


	7. Chapter Seven: Heart-to-Heart

At just past eight o’clock, Anna finally arrived at the clinic. She and Castiel exchanged quick words on how the evening had gone, and soon enough, she pressed Castiel to hurry home, assuring him that there was no issue.

When his car turned onto Lazarus Street, Castiel spotted Dean’s Impala stationed in front of his house and not far from his maple tree.

And it was a sight, Castiel had to admit, that was pleasing to see.

But the moment he acknowledged it, he then forced the idea out of his head. With his car parked in his driveway, he made his way to the porch and he found Whiskey, bouncing around and excited to see him when he opened the door. She let out a short bark, announcing his arrival.

“It’s me! I’m home!”

It didn’t take long for Jack to come running to the door and with Dean following not far behind him.

Castiel then got a detailed account of what had happened during the night, as Jack blurted out a lot of information all at once before Castiel had even had the time to take off his trench coat yet.

“What about you?” asked Dean. “Everything okay at work?”

Despite his attempt to remain subtle, Castiel scanned Dean’s expression, worried he might have been in a hurry to leave due to exhaustion or annoyance.

But on the contrary, Dean appeared completely at ease and relaxed.

“The usual,” he finally answered. “Just later than I’m used to.” He then added quickly, “Which reminds me, Jack, you should say goodnight to Dean. It’s time for you to go upstairs and get ready. I’ll be up in a minute to draw you a bath.”

“Already? No!”

“It’s late, Jack.”

“I’m not tired!”

“I know. You’re never tired,” said Castiel, almost laughing. “But you still need to get going.”

Jack let out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting at his father.

“Say goodnight to Dean,” repeated Castiel. “And then go upstairs and pick which story you’d like to read after your bath.”

Jack had a last moment of defiance, but he stepped towards Dean and lifted his arms as if to hug him. Dean, mildly surprised, leaned towards him and wrapped his arms around him.

“Good night, Dean. Thank you for playing with me.”

“Any time, kid,” he said, smiling. “Night.”

“That was very nice of you,” said Castiel to his son. “Now, go upstairs. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Jack wished Whiskey good night as well, as he kissed the top of her head, right before he started climbing up the stairs.

“Wow. That was a much shorter negotiation than I was expecting,” said Dean, once Jack had reached the top of the stairs.

Castiel started laughing. “I wish. Don’t worry. That’s just the first round. All I managed to do is to send him upstairs.”

They laughed awkwardly for a second, and then, after an uncomfortable silence, Castiel said, “I—I won’t keep you for much longer. You must be in a hurry to get home after your long day.”

“S’okay. Um, wanna talk a minute on the porch before I leave?” asked Dean, grabbing his jacket.

Castiel nodded, and followed Dean outside, putting his trench coat back on.

Jumping off the porch, Whiskey then ran around on the lawn, chasing snowflakes, while Castiel and Dean stood side by side, watching her.

“Thank you again for tonight. That was really kind of you.” Castiel reached for his wallet in his back pocket. “The plans were made at the last minute, so we didn’t really discuss any—but I usually give Row—”

Dean pushed his wallet aside. “I don’t want you to pay me.”

Castiel frowned. “Dean, I—I can’t—that’s just—”

“I don’t want it.”

“But I’m not trying to—I have to, Dean.”

“It was a favor. And I offered.”

Castiel pursed his lips. “I pay everyone. Even Rowena. As I should, this isn’t—I’m not a freeloader here. The only ones I didn’t always pay were Maggie’s parents and that was because I was able to return the favour when they needed a night out. That was the _only_ way I felt comfortable about it.”

Dean smiled at him, shoved his hands in his pockets, refusing to take any money, and said, “Tough.”

“Dean—”

“I’m not taking it. I can’t take it. I actually had a good time. And like I said, I offered. It was my pleasure. Now put your wallet away before I start feeling bad.”

Castiel held his stare a moment more.

Quite helplessly.

And conceded, as he told himself he would somehow find a way to repay him.

And this, even if he knew he would not be able to forget Dean’s kindness, no matter how Castiel would return the favour.

“Thank you.” And putting his wallet back in his pocket, he asked, “Was he a problem?”

Dean let out a laugh. “Oh, yeah. The kid’s a real monster,” he said mockingly. “Like, I’m talking the Devil’s spawn, here.”

Castiel nodded, laughing reassuringly.

“Cas, he is probably the most well-behaved child who’s ever existed. I know a lot of people who could learn a lot from him in terms of manners.”

“But I—I was—I was simply asking because of Belphegor.”

Dean lifted his head, understanding.

“Did Belphegor make an appearance?”

“Yeah. Sort of.”

This was not shocking information for Castiel as he had expected the possibility. But he remained wary about it. “I’m guessing he had a lot of opinions?”

“Um, he was chatty, yes.” Dean leaned on the ramp, facing him. “Anyway, you—not that I know anything about kids or parenting—there’s no point in pretending—but from what I saw tonight, and what I’ve always seen, you don’t have to worry about that. You—you did a good job.”

“Aside from the questionable Belphegor issue, you mean?”

“I don’t think you should worry too much about Belphegor. He’s actually very smart.”

“A little too smart,” muttered Castiel.

Dean watched him carefully. They stood awkwardly for a moment, and then, wanting to kill the silence, Castiel asked Dean what he and Sam had planned for Christmas.

“We are going to our folks’. That’s what we usually do. They live in Lebanon.”

Castiel frowned. “Why did I think you had grown up here in Lawrence?”

“We did. My parents only moved to Lebanon a while back. Mom got a job offer that was too good to be true. She didn’t want to leave because her whole life was here. Her family and her friends. But Sam and I weren’t kids anymore, so it’s not like we couldn’t fend for ourselves. And while Dad had his auto shop set up here, he argued that mechanics were always needed everywhere, so he could simply set up another one over there as well. I don’t think Dad minds one bit where it is. He’d follow Mom across the globe no questions asked.” He smiled at the thought. “Anyway, I—since then, Sam and I head over there for Christmas.”

“That’s nice,” said Castiel, reflecting on the Winchester family tradition. “Are you both closing shop for the rest of the holidays, then?”

Dean laughed. “No. I wish. No, we’re leaving on the twenty-third—late at night—and we’re coming back on the twenty-sixth.” Dean shifted on his feet and asked, “What about you?”

“My plans for the holidays?”

Dean nodded.

“Just the usual, too. I spend the whole day of the twenty-fourth with Jack and we more or less treat it as our Christmas day instead of the twenty-fifth.”

“Really? I didn’t know that. Why is that?” asked Dean, intrigued.

“Jack’s grandparents—Kelly’s parents—always have this impressive holiday celebration on Christmas day. They live just outside of town, and everyone they know is there. It’s quite something and very—proper. Always beautiful and the food is amazing. And while social gatherings of that magnitude aren’t typically my cup of tea, and I’d much prefer having a quiet Christmas with Jack in the comfort of my own home, he gets to see his grandparents so rarely that I don’t have the heart to not bring him. So,” he said, sighing, “I came to a compromise of sorts: I stay home on the twenty-fourth with Jack, so we can have our quiet Christmas together, and then we don’t miss the Klines' Christmas party on the next day.”

“I like that. And hey, that way, Jack gets two Christmases, too.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself so I don’t feel guilty about it. I don’t know how this year is going to go though. His grandparents suggested Jack spends the night there. He seems happy with the idea, but—I don’t know.”

“I’m sure everything is going to be fine. And it’s great you guys get to see them, too. I’m sure they are thrilled to see their grandson and their son-in-law.”

Castiel blinked at the term.

“I—I’m not their son in-law,” said Castiel, almost amused. “Well, I—I suppose it may—but no. I’m Jack’s father and—but Kelly and I never married.” Dean opened his mouth, obviously confused, so Castiel continued, “I’m not a widower. Of course, I understand how—we were friends, but we—we weren’t together. Not like that.”

“I—I didn’t know that. I always thought…sorry.” Dean bit his bottom lip, with a hint of worry in his eyes at his misassumption.

“It’s okay. That’s probably my fault. I rarely mention it,” admitted Castiel. “Not because it’s too hard or—it’s just…it’s unconventional and, um, it came to my attention rather quickly that it seemed to confuse people, and the more I tried to explain, the more people got even more confused. So, I just stopped mentioning it.”

He slowly sat on the bench, taking in a deep breath.

“In retrospect though, that might not have been the best approach because then it seemed to have given people the green light to simply fill-in the blanks to their liking and,” he let out a short laugh, “let’s just say, I’m very impressed by some people’s imaginations.”

He shot a glance at Dean, who was still biting on his bottom lips and his head down. “Yeah, um, I might have heard one or two of those. I tried to not really listen,” he said, now looking at Castiel, “but some kept popping up. One in particular.”

Leaning back on his seat, Castel asked, “Which one?” And with Dean’s silence, and what they had previously discussed, Castiel immediately knew. “It’s the heartbroken widower, right?”

Dean made a face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said Castiel. “I understand where that one came from. Dating had never really been a big concern of mine, even before Jack was born. After his birth and with everything that happened with Kelly, it became even less of a concern.”

“And, um, do you think it will ever be a concern?”

Their eyes met.

“I’m not sure about that,” he said in all honesty. And then he smiled, and said, “That’s certainly what Kelly wanted though. For me to—anyway.”

Dean nodded, seemingly lost in his thoughts for a moment, and then said, “Can I ask what was the situation? With Kelly, I mean. I—I’ve seen the photographs in Jack’s room—which is a totally kick ass room by the way—and in one of them, you guys looked pretty young compared to the ones when she was pregnant. You must have known each other for a long time.” And then, he added quickly, “Unless I’m crossing a line and it’s—”

“No, you’re not,” Castiel assured him. “And you’re right. We knew each other for a long time. We were neighbors growing up.”

Dean leaned his head backwards. “Best friends since childhood, huh?”

“Definitely,” said Castiel, grinning as he was hit with fond memories. “Both only child. Same school. Even at university. We both went to Georgetown. She was majoring in political science and I was pre-med.”

“You were in med school?” said Dean, looking astonished.

“No. I never made it to med school. I changed my mind after my first year of pre-med. I know how this sounds, but I much preferred the company of animals over people.”

Dean let out a small laugh. “Preaching to the choir, Cas.”

“Anyway, as you can see, we were pretty tight.”

“But not dating? Like ever?” Dean lifted an eyebrow with a smirk on his face. “I feel like there must have been a little more than that.”

“Considering Jack, you mean,” laughed Castiel. He paused a moment. “Kelly and I never dated. And it had never been a ‘friends with benefits’ situation, either. It wasn’t what either of us wanted, too. It was platonic.” He took a short pause. “Except for one night.”

“Uh-huh. Thought so.”

“But it wasn’t—nothing had been leading to this,” Castiel pressed on. “It wasn’t like we had been pining away in our corners. Or had made a questionable decision due to life trauma or heavy drinking. It just happened. And it wasn’t weird. Neither of us freaked out the next morning. We remained the same. I don’t want to say it was meaningless, because it wasn’t, far from it, but I—I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Like nothing changed, but not?” suggested Dean.

“Of sorts, yes. And then, Kelly got pregnant. That was about the last thing I was expecting. And even more surprising was Kelly’s decision and how enticed I was at the idea.”

“Because you weren’t together?”

“Yes and no. I would have supported her decision no matter what. And I didn’t think the nature of our relationship would have influenced her in the end. I knew her well enough to know that. And it certainly wouldn’t have been a dealbreaker for me. What surprised me was how easy her decision to keep the baby had been. She obviously had a moment of panic, of course. So did I. A massive one. But once that was decided, everything else fell into place and many other decisions were made that I really hadn’t expected. Like our choice to raise the baby here. We were both still living in Washington back then. She was a lobbyist for a large insurance company and I was working at that animal clinic for the second year—third year? More? I can’t remember. But after discussing it at length, we both opted to return to Lawrence. I was concerned at first, considering this would most likely mean a brand-new career for her. And she had worked so hard for it, but once again, she made it seem like an easy decision. She had no doubt she’d be able to find something else when the time would come, which I had no problem believing. And in the meantime, I had savings from when my parents had passed away, and after looking around, I learned that an old friend of ours, Anna Milton, was a veterinarian as well and was hoping to find necessary funds to open an Animal clinic. It just seemed like the perfect fit. Like I said, everything seemed to fall into place.”

Castiel shifted on his seat.

“And you still didn’t get married?” asked Dean.

“We talked about it. Her parents were—still are—traditional. But despite that, Kelly insisted that getting married would not make us a family, as we already were one and that the _big day_ should be reserved for when we’d fall in love with someone. Not _if_ , but _when_. Like she had zero doubt it would happen. Even in our unusual arrangement, she was positive of that fact." Castiel paused shortly. “And then...well, you know the rest, I suppose. There were complications during childbirth…”

“I’m sorry, Cas. I feel—I’m sorry. I knew it had to be harsh no matter what, but….” Dean took a deep breath, processing it all.

“Thanks. And, um, I forget what we were saying before…but anyways, that is most likely why people stick to that rumor. And why most people keep their distances about the dat—why I don’t go out much.”

“And what if you—would you be up for a change about that? I—if someone was to ask you?”

Clear second attempt that night. If Castiel hadn’t been sure about Dean’s insinuation before, there was no denying it now. And just as panic was settling in Castiel’s chest, Dean added urgently, “Just, you know, once in a while. For—would you consider it?”

The casual tone Dean had adopted in his second sentence made Castiel hesitate on his answer.

Lydia’s words echoed in his mind, as well as the image of Cain and Dean at the Stynes’ party.

And while he had kept things casual himself in the past, including on the rare occasions when he had gone out on dates since his son had been born, for once, Castiel wanted something more. Especially where Dean was concerned.

And if Dean wasn’t leaning toward that, then Castiel judged it would be best to stay clear from it.

Even though he wished to say yes.

So, he heard himself say, “I—I might one day, but I don’t think that’s where I am right now.”

And with that, the conversation, unfortunately, ended there. Aware that it might have been the perfect opportunity to finally dwell on a few unspoken things—like the kiss, which they had never really discussed—Castiel nonetheless held his breath and kept his mouth shut.

And after standing still, both waiting to see what the other would say or do, but with nothing happening, they wished each other a good night and that was it.

Castiel returned inside, not without glancing one last time at Dean walking to his car.

With a heavy heart.


	8. Chapter Eight: The Last Hesitation

The next few days that followed, right up until the day before Christmas Eve, would not have been labeled as jolly from Dean’s perspective.

Castiel, it seemed, had ceased his daily afternoon stops at the Winchester’s Pet Groomer. And while Dean reasoned that it was probably due to the holiday rush, and that he shouldn’t read too much into it, he couldn’t help but feel a hint of depression waving at him from the corner street regarding this issue.

He had remained professional and jovial with their clients, harbored a smile and continued sharing peppy small talk with everyone, just like always, certain that he was keeping up appearances.

And for the most part, he had succeeded.

One person, however, had noticed.

Sam, who had kept a close eye on his brother over the past week, had not been fooled by his brother’s façade for one second.

As Dean was sweeping the floor in utter silence, Sam, who was busy cleaning the brushes, weighed how he should address the issue.

“Are you still up for Lebanon?”

Dean froze and stared at him questionably. “Of course. Why?”

“Because Cain called.” Sam continued on his task at hand. “And he had a lot of questions about your plans over the holidays. I was wondering if it was something you two had discussed before.”

Dean returned to his sweeping with a deep sigh. “It’s news to me. And I’m not planning on backing out, Sam.”

Sam watched him for a brief moment, assessing Dean’s body language.

“And what about Cas?”

Dean paused for the briefest moment, but then continued sweeping, making sure that his eyes wouldn’t meet his brother's. “What about Cas?”

“Are you gonna try again before we leave? Or are you gonna wait until after Christmas?”

“I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“I’m not gonna try. At all.”

“But Dean—”

“He said no, Sam.” Dean shot a stern look at Sam. “He said no. So, short of harassing the guy, that’s that.” And once more, he returned to his sweeping, gathering all the dog hair in one spot.

“He said no to whatever you said, which was pretty vague from what you told me,” argued Sam. “He didn’t say no to _you_ , Dean.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that why he hasn’t come back once since, then?”

“Maybe he’s busy.”

“And maybe he’s just making it clear that he doesn’t want to see me,” he said, handling the broom a little more harshly than needed. “You know, like what he told me.”

Sam sighed deeply. “Then make sure that’s what it is. Stop by and ask him. Just to clear the air.”

And now officially depressed and done with this topic, Dean rested the broom against the wall and muttered something about calling Cain, as he tried to think of a quick excuse for whatever situation was about to unfold.

As for Castiel, much like Dean, he hadn’t been particularly cheerful either during the week that had followed their short conversation on his porch. And while Jack, who always brightened his days, and this without fail, had been a big help to make it impossible for him to sulk for too long, Castiel still had caught himself pondering on it more than once.

Replaying it in his mind.

Wondering if he had misunderstood.

Hoping he had misunderstood.

And every time he had reflected on the matter and had unfortunately came to the same conclusion as before, he then wished that Dean would suddenly change his mind.

Knowing full well that it was pointless and that he simply had to resign himself to the fact that it wasn’t Dean’s style.

No matter how Castiel wanted it to be the case.

Thus, adopting a drastic strategy to keep himself in check and get this message imprinted into his thick skull, he stopped visiting Dean every day.

The times when he had made a point to consciously stop by Dean's business solely to see him, interact with him, smile at him, had come to an end.

Castiel had every intention in continuing being his friend. He didn’t mean to cut all ties.

But he had to stop circling the man if there was evidently no hope of this ever yielding in the direction he was so aching for.

So, reluctantly, but with the firm belief that it was for his best well-being, he stayed away.

And it had been difficult.

Extremely difficult.

Far more difficult than he had imagined.

But he still did it.

Even if it left him to sigh painfully and felt his throat tightening every time he would think of Dean.

On the day before Christmas Eve, however, Castiel was hit with strong doubts during lunchtime.

He was seated quietly in his office, lost in his thoughts, when he came across a drawing that had been tucked at the bottom of his lunch bag. A drawing that depicted him and Jack flying a kite in a wintery scene (which Castiel had deduced by their seemingly winter attire and no flowers or grass had been drawn).

And Belphegor was there too, with his sunglasses.

And so were Dean and Whiskey beside them.

Castiel swallowed hard.

Fully aware that he couldn’t control the end results and overwhelmed by a strong feeling of urgency, he dropped his sandwich, grabbed his trench coat and hastily left his office.

Without running, he still walked at a quick pace down the street, beelining for Winchester’s Pet Groomer.

With his eyes on the door.

With his heart racing.

And getting more nervous with every step.

But when he had nearly reached the entrance, a tall dashing man swept right in front of him and stepped inside Winchester’s Pet Groomer.

And Castiel stopped abruptly. His smile vanished. And the pit in stomach grew.

Cain.

Having been lost in his renewed fate of his sentiment for Dean, Castiel had momentarily forgot that one detail. Against his good sense, he took one step closer to observe the scene through the large front window.

Cain was standing at the front desk, which Patience was manning. She nodded at his request and left to the back room.

Dean appeared seconds later.

Even from where Castiel was standing, it was possible for him to discern Dean’s smile widening the moment he saw Cain. Dean stepped towards him, very closely, and they exchanged a few words and embraced one another.

Resting his hand on his shoulder, Dean then gently nudged Cain towards the back room, which Castiel knew was his office.

And with that, he turned on his heels and walked away slowly with a heavy heart, feeling slightly stupid to have even considered the idea that Dean’s particular warm smile could have been reserved for him alone.

Later that night, Dean was fixing the trunk of his car so all his and Sam’s luggage they were bringing to Lebanon would fit. His duffel bag, Sam’s suitcase and computer bag, presents, the dogs’ beds and food, other items they might need, and so on, was quickly adding up, and Dean was having difficulty making it all fit.

The car was packed, and for the third time, the door of his trunk wouldn’t shut properly.

“It’s like watching you play Tetris. I really don’t know why we aren’t taking my car, Dean.” 

Sam, after one last round at Winchester’s Pet Groomer, making sure everything was closed, was now standing on the sidewalk, holding their dogs’ leashes.

Dean made a face at his suggestion. “It will fit.”

Sam sighed, and even though he was slightly aggravated by his brother’s stubbornness, he went to help him after settling both dogs on the back seat, and soon enough, they managed to make everything fit, without squashing the desserts and other baked goods they had gotten for their parents at their requests.

Seated in the car, Sam was telling Gamgee (who was very excited for the road trip) to settle down.

“I still can’t believe you named your dog after yourself,” said Dean, while fixing the radio

“It’s after a _character_.” 

“Who has the same name as you!”

“His name is _Samwise._ It’s not the same.”

“God, you’re a nerd.”

“Oh, I’m the nerd? Don’t think for a second I haven’t noticed that these here,” he said, pointing at the beverages in the cup holders, “are butter beer drinks from the Bradbury’s Café.”

“Totally random,” protested Dean. “They just happen to be super delicious.”

“Uh-huh? I know Charlie gives anyone a discount if you answer correctly her Harry Potter trivia.”

“The magic of Google.”

“You can’t use Google as she asks you on the spot. And her questions are tough. I failed the last three. And you,” he said, picking his cup, “got the answer right.” He pointed at the little deathly hallow symbol which had been drawn at the bottom of the cup.

Dean cleared his throat. “It’s not that hard.”

“Sure. What was the question?”

“Never mind that, do we have everything?” And with the engine running, Dean and Sam went through the checklist one last time, and when everything was in order, they then nodded to each other.

“So, we’re good to go?”

“Seems so,” said Sam.

“Huh. Wow. We are really doing this, then? Not leaving at the last minute.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Dean nodded, turning his head towards the road. Both hands on the wheel, he let out a deep sigh.

And did not move.

“Dean?”

“What?”

“Um, now is the part where we leave.”

“Yeah.”

He swallowed hard and tightened his grip on the wheel.

But still didn’t move.

Sam, frowning, observed his brother attentively.

“What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing.” He paused for a minute, during which Sam purposely remained silent, knowing Dean would most likely finally blurt out his problem, and sure enough, not long after, Dean said, “Are you sure we’re not making a mistake about tomorrow?”

Sam rolled his eyes, and as he leaned his head backwards in frustration, he muttered something like, “I literally asked you about this today.”

“I mean,” continued Dean, “I got, like, over twenty calls today from people begging for a spot tomorrow. That’s—it would be kind of stupid of us to—”

“No,” said Sam firmly. With one hand held in front of him, he shifted on his seat to look at his brother properly. “One, we said we’d leave tonight. Dean, we agreed. We’ve been trying to do this for the last four years. _Four years._ And finally, we kept to our word, so no, we’re not working tomorrow.” Sam took a deep breath. “Two, are you seriously telling me this is about work? Because I don’t believe you.”

Dean, even though he hadn’t been looking at his brother, lowered his eyes as though he had been caught in middle of a lie.

“Work was nuts today,” added Sam. “We barely had time to breathe. But I noticed Cain stopped by. Does that have anything to do with this?”

“No. Yes. No.”

“What happened? I thought you had—”

“I did. I’ve been brushing him off since that night—the Stynes' party…it wasn’t like we were—whatever. I had told him we should leave it there. But he kept insisting. Not like in a creepy way…but you know. I just thought he would get bored soon enough, especially when he’d see I’m with Cas, but—that—”

Sam sighed. “But that’s not what happened…”

“No. It’s not. And when Cain spotted me sitting on my own at Bradbury’s Café last night, that’s what he figured, too.”

“How is sitting at a coffee shop on your own implying your relationship status?” asked Sam.

“At ten o’clock at night? On a Monday?”

Sam was about to protest, but changed his mind.

“Anyways,” continued Dean, “I called him this afternoon after you mentioned he had tried to reach me and he insisted on stopping by to chat in person.”

“And? What did he say?”

“It was like you said. He asked what I was doing for Christmas. He said he was leaving for his place in upstate New York tomorrow and he wanted to know if I wanted to go with him.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s—wait, you’re not—you’re not actually thinking of going…right?”

“No,” sighed Dean. “I just—I thanked him, but refused. Obviously. I told him of my holiday plans and that I had no intentions of changing anything. And we talked and—well, it seems like it’s…done now.”

Dean bit on his bottom lip.

“Okay. And that’s good. Right?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m okay with this. It is what I wanted.”

“But?”

Dean exhaled loudly. “ _But_ now, I’m…miserable. It was partially flattering, and I know this was supposed to be liberating, and it was like that for about three seconds, until I realized that none of this changes anything about Cas. All this has done is remind me that the guy I like doesn’t see me like that and doesn’t—it’s depressing.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. But like I told you earlier, I don’t think it’s necessarily a lost cause. You might have to wait a little longer, but I really don’t think you should give up. The New Year is coming up. That usually brings a change in perspective for a lot people. And in any case, I actually think that a few days away from this, a change of scenery, might be a good thing for you.”

“You’re probably right, but it’s just—right now, I don’t really feel in a festive mood. Wallowing in a corner sounds way more appealing.”

“Um, no offense Dean, but I’m pretty sure this is exactly why you need a break from this. And if you think I’m leaving you here to torment yourself on your own—”

“No, of course not. I’m just saying—I feel like I’m just going to be a bit downer.”

“If that’s what happens, then that’s what happens. But I think once we get to Mom and Dad’s, you’ll feel better already.”

Dean nodded, pondering on the matter. “You’re probably right.” Then after a moment, he said, “I am looking forward to Dad’s ridiculous eggnog.”

He shot a look at Sam and they both burst into laughter.

“Gosh, that’s disgusting.”

“I know. How can you make it bad? It’s like he’s doing it on purpose.”

“We’re the idiots who keep drinking it anyway.”

“Well, it is tradition,” said Dean, smirking. And soon, Sam and Dean drove down the road, laughing with each other, debating which Christmas movie they would watch first on their arrival.

On the morning of the twenty-fourth, Castiel had been staring at the ceiling for a good twenty minutes until he finally let out a deep sigh, pushed the covers off, and left his warm bed. He was grateful that he didn’t have any plans on this day. The idea of staying home and spending the whole day in comfy pajamas, while watching Christmas movies and laughing with Jack, had never sounded better than it had on that morning.

He put on a pair of thick socks, snuggled himself into his dressing gown and went to check on Jack, yawning away.

His son, as it happened, was already awake. He was sitting quietly at his small table, invested in his drawing. The white sunglasses were on top of his head and his pet snake was wrapped around his left hand.

“Good morning, Jack.”

“Morning, Dad.”

Castiel pulled one of the chairs and sat next to him, after lovingly patting his head. “What are you drawing?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“I see you let out Felix. How is he this morning?”

“All right. He is listening to Belphegor.”

“He is? And what is Belphegor saying?”

“He’s singing.”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile at that one. “Is that so? That’s nice.”

Jack came to halt and lifted his head. “He thinks you should sing with him.”

“Um—what is he singing?”

“It’s a Christmas song. I’m not sure which one.”

“Hmm. It would help me if I knew which one otherwise that will get very confusing. We will be singing two different songs at the same time.”

“That would be funny.”

“I think that there is a term for that, actually. But I can’t remember.” Castiel stood up. “I’ll let Belphegor finish his song for now and you can come finish your drawing downstairs. Are you hungry?”

Jack shrugged. 

Castiel grinned. “What does that mean?” he asked, tickling him on his sides. “Does it mean you’re not hungry? Or that you don’t know? Or—”

“Stop—stop!” said Jack, laughing wholeheartedly. “I don’t know.”

“All right,” said Castiel, lifting his hands in the air in sign of defeat. “I’ll go prepare breakfast, okay?”

“Can I bring Felix, too?”

Castiel hesitated. “Maybe after breakfast.”

Jack nodded.

He kissed his head and let his son hum to himself, leaving his room.

Once on the first floor, he let out a massive sigh, as he stretched on the bottom step of the stairs. A quick glance from his living room window and Castiel noticed that a massive snowfall had occurred during the night.

Having no desire to leave the house—or the comfort of his thick socks and soft pajamas—he nonetheless reasoned that he should have a look at the situation in case he would need to move his car from under the tree to avoid a bad surprise later on.

Castiel opened his front door and gasped when he found an unexpected visitor standing before him, with a fist lifted, as though he had been about to knock on his door.

“Dean?”

As stunned as Castiel was, Dean let his hand drop.

“Hey, Cas. Um, hi.”


	9. Chapter Nine: December Twenty-Fourth

“Dean, wha—what are you doing here? I thought—weren’t you supposed to leave for your parents’?”

Dean swallowed. “I was. But I—Sam and I talked it over, but long story short, I decided to stay here.”

Because Dean was being particularly vague about the details, Castiel reasoned that he had changed his plans due to what he had witnessed the day before at lunchtime.

And felt a pang in chest.

“You did? I hope it wasn’t due to work. You were looking forward to having the day off,” said Castiel, treading the matter carefully.

“No. I—there was just something I had to do. If the weather allows it, I’ll leave tonight or tomorrow morning. But I had to see someone first.”

“And what—”

And in that moment, Jack appeared next to Castiel in the doorway.

“Hello, Dean! What’s this?”

They both looked down and Castiel finally noticed some bags rested at Dean’s feet.

“Oh. Um, that’s—since I was still here, I just wanted to drop this off for you guys.” After Dean made sure that the bags weren’t too heavy for him and that Jack had a solid hold on them, Jack carefully brought the bags inside with him.

Leaving his father and Dean staring at each other.

Even if he had remained within earshot of them, as Castiel had left the front door open to keep an eye on him.

Still not believing he was on his porch, Castiel said, “Thank you. You—you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s nothing,” said Dean, shaking his head. “I—anyway, I—I have to head out, but I just really wanted you guys to have this for today.”

“Okay. That’s very kind.”

Both seemingly holding their breaths. And awkwardness amplifying between them.

Panicking, Castiel was torn about what to do. But he knew he had to make a decision now or he would regret it.

And just as Dean, after giving him a short nod, had begun turning on his heels, Castiel said, “Dean—Dean, wait.”

Dean froze on his spot.

“I just…don’t—Dean, can you wait a moment? I need to—to check something a second,” he said, pointing inside his house. “Just—don’t—don’t leave, okay?” he asked him.

Dean nodded, and once Castiel judged that he would indeed not flee after examining Dean’s expression, he stepped back inside to speak with Jack, shutting the door behind him.

His son, who had apparently been examining the contents of one of Dean’s bags, stared at him, as he was twisting his sunglasses in his hands.

Castiel took a deep breath, and after one last moment to think it through, he lowered himself to be on the same eye line as his son. “Jack? I need to ask you something. I—I know this is supposed to be our day, just the two of us, but do you—would you—” he bit on his bottom lip, struggling to find the right words. “Would it be all right with you if Dean joined us today?”

Jack’s eyes shifted as he processed what his father had just told him. “You mean, if Dean would spent Christmas with us?”

Castiel swallowed. “Yes. Is—would that be okay? Or would you rather—what do you think?”

“The _whole_ day?”

Castiel nodded. “If he can and wants to, yes.”

And Jack’s grin spread from ear to ear. “Does that mean he’ll wear a funny sweater too, Dad?”

Castiel, feeling happy jitters spread throughout his chest, said, “We have to ask him if he wants to join us first. Wanna find out?”

Jack eagerly nodded, let go of the bags and took his father’s hand.

When Castiel reopened the door, Dean was leaning on the ramp of the porch watching the snow falling.

“Dean?”

He turned around, seemingly surprised to hear Castiel call his name.

“Cas, I—I need to tell—say something, I—” but he stopped mid-sentence once his eyes fell on Jack, who had now stepped in front of his father, staring at Dean. “Um, I—about Cain—”

“Who’s Cain?” asked Jack.

Dean’s and Castiel’s eyes met and everyone remained silent for a short moment, until Castiel said, “He’s a friend of Dean’s.”

“I—yes. A friend,” said Dean. And then, trying to follow Castiel’s approach of speaking in codes, he added, “A friend who asked me to spend time with him.”

Castiel nodded.

“But I turned him down.”

Castiel did his best to not shift on his feet.

“Because he’s not the one—the friend—that I wanted to spend time with. There’s another one I would much prefer seeing than him. The same friend I always look forward to spending time with. Even if it’s just for a little while. Like when they stop by every day just to say hello.”

And Castiel’s heart swelled and he could feel a smile forming itself on his lips.

“If your friend stops by every day just to say hello,” said Castiel, “ever thought it’s because they feel the same, too?”

“I hope so. I—I just wasn’t sure.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “And what about now? What if—Dean, I—I know you said—you probably have other plans, but would you like to spend the day with us?”

Dean blinked. “You mean with—but, isn’t this your special day with Jack?”

“It is.”

Looking him straight in the eyes, Dean said, “And you’re asking _me_ to spend it with you guys?”

“You’re welcome the whole day, I—I don’t know if—”

“I don’t have any plans. Well, actually, I sort of—but it’s okay, I—Cas, I much prefer being here with you and Jack.”

“Yes? You—you’re sure?”

Dean nodded vehemently. “Absolutely.”

After smiling at each other, Castiel then took a step back to let Dean (and Whiskey, once Dean went to get her from the Impala) inside.

As Castiel was helping Dean out of his coat, Jack, with Whiskey sitting next to him, was examining the other bag that Dean had brought. He lifted his head gleefully. “The other one had food in it, but this one’s got presents!”

“Of course. It’s Christmas,” said Dean, taking off his boots. “I got you and your Dad a little something.”

Actual twinkles were discernable in Jack’s eyes.

“What do we say, Jack?”

“Thank you, Dean!”

“You’re welcome.”

“Why don’t you go put them under the tree,” suggested Castiel, “right next to Dean’s present?”

Jack smiled and dragged the bag of presents with him, which was nearly as big as he was.

“My present?” asked Dean to Castiel.

Smirking, he said, “We got you something, too.”

Dean let out a laugh. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Says the man who just brought us presents himself.”

“What did you get me?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said, lifting an eyebrow, amused.

“Really? Not even a hint?”

Castiel chuckled. “You’re as bad as Jack.”

“No, I just don’t think everyone has your strong will.”

“What’s that?” They both turned to Jack, who was holding the one item from the bag, which hadn’t been wrapped.

“It’s a Christmas tree topper,” said Dean. “I noticed the other day you guys didn’t have one. I wasn’t sure if it was because you simply hadn’t gotten around to putting yours up yet or because you didn’t have one, so I thought I should bring one just in case.”

“That’s actually really thoughtful of you, Dean,” said Castiel, genuinely amazed at his observation. “Thank you. We used to have a star as a tree topper,” explained Castiel to Dean. “But it broke this year when we were making the tree. I meant to replace it and I completely forgot.”

Jack frowned. “And we can still use it even if it looks like an angel?” as if he was worried it would tamper with the authenticity of the tree if they did not use the same one.

“I’m pretty sure you can choose whatever you want, Jack. Grandma and Grandpa uses a big bow on theirs, remember?”

Jack nodded and then examined more closely the decoration. It was a blonde angel with large golden wings. But the angel was not wearing a typical white gown. It was wearing silver armor, much like a knight, and it had a small 'G' painted on its breastplate.

“Do you want me to help you put it on top of the tree?” asked Dean to Jack. The kid nodded in an earnest manner, standing up. Dean lifted Jack high enough and, with certain directives from Castiel, Jack succeeded in installing the angel at the top of the Christmas tree.

“There’s actually a story behind it,” said Dean after putting down Jack. “Sam made it when we were kids.”

“He did?” asked Jack, fascinated.

“Yeah. Everyone thought it was weird that he had made the angel a knight, but I always thought it was pretty cool.”

“What was the inspiration behind it?” asked Castiel.

“Well, that’s the funny part of the story. At the time, Sam was obsessed with two things. The first one was T. H. White’s _The Once and Future King_ …”

“Hence the knight,” said Castiel.

“And the second one was this other kid who lived down the street. He was a little older than Sam—even me—and I have no idea why, but Sam always liked him. And his name was Gabriel.”

“Like the archangel. How appropriate,” laughed Castiel.

“Right? Of course, you’d ask Sam today and he’d say the “G” always stood for Gawain. But,” said Dean, chuckling, “I know the truth. He sure tore my ear out enough about the guy, there is no way I’d forget _that_.”

“He didn’t mind us using it?”

“Nope. He insisted on it. I might bring it back after the holidays, though.”

“Of course. That’s still very kind of you both to lend it to us.”

“I like sir Gabrielgawain,” said Jack, looking at the tree, which made Castiel and Dean laugh.

“So, what were you up to before I showed up?” Dean inquired. “How do you usually spend your day?”

“We take it easy. I was about to make breakfast, and then we—”

“But Dad, we aren’t even wearing our sweaters yet. And what about Dean?”

Castiel opened his mouth and shut it, having forgotten about that detail.

Dean, bouncing his eyes from Castiel to Jack, waiting for them to explain, asked, “What sweaters?”

“Um, we—Jack and I usually spend the day in pajamas. And we wear…we wear geeky Christmas sweaters,” he said, almost regretting saying it out loud.

Dean, it was obvious, was deeply trying to hold down his smile.

“Do you, now?”

“Yes. And as Jack just reminded me, we haven’t put those on yet.”

“And Dean too,” insisted Jack. “It’s tradition.”

“Um, I’d like to, but I’m afraid I don’t have one. I am absolutely looking forward to see you—you both—wearing these.”

As much as a good excuse that would have been, as it happened, Jack had the perfect solution to this problem.

“Dad has more than one. He can lend you one.”

Castiel’s smile widened. “That’s a very good point, Jack.”

Dean held down his grin and gave Jack a nod, defeated. “All right. That’s settled. I’m following your lead.”

“I’ll get them!” replied Jack with high enthusiasm as he dashed towards the stairs. “Come help me, Whiskey!”

“No running in the stairs!” warned Castiel gently. He then turned to Dean and said, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s tradition. I’ll abide by it. Now, you said the rest of the required attire are pajamas? I don’t think jeans qualify as such, huh?” he said, gesturing his outfit.

Castiel let out a short laugh. “You don’t have to change, but I do have a spare you can borrow.”

“Actually, I’m covered for that part. I still have my duffel bag in my trunk. I—last night, well, I’ll explain later. The important part is that I can properly participate.”

Thus, while Castiel busied himself with making a fresh pot of coffee, Dean fetched his bag from his car, as well as a few things for Whiskey, like food and her large pillow, which he set up near the fireplace, and a bowl of water and food in the kitchen.

Their day carried on in the best possible way. They shared laughs over breakfast, all three of them wearing comfortable flannel pajama pants, soft sleepers and “ugly nerdy funny” Christmas sweaters.

Jack had apparently taken the task of selecting a sweater for Dean very seriously and had therefore been very happy with his choice.

Jack’s knitted jumper was of a grey and maroon color, with daleks and cybermen on it. Castiel’s was bright green and a bit of beige in it, with Christmas trees and stormtroopers, while Dean’s was a blue and red knitted jumper, displaying grumpy cat with a Christmas hat.

They spent the morning (and a big part of the afternoon as well) laughing, drinking apple cider and watching their favourite classic Christmas movies, such as _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ and _Home Alone_. And Jack and Castiel enjoyed wholeheartedly Dean’s comments throughout _The Polar Express_ , which he had never seen before. Dean made them his “Christmas popcorn” (a family recipe!) during the afternoon when they reached the part when Kevin McCallister was prepping the house.

With Whiskey resting her head on Castiel’s lap.

With Jack sitting in between Dean and Castiel, holding the huge popcorn bowl and petting her.

And Castiel and Dean reaching for the each other’s hand on the back of the couch. And while they were fully focused on the screen, they both knew the other was smiling.

As their fingers touched.

They took a break from the television and spent the rest of the afternoon playing board games, listening and humming to Christmas music.

Dean and Castiel exchanged warm looks sitting at the table while playing _Trouble_ with Jack, and when Dean discovered that Castiel was too good for his own good, he and Jack decided to team up against him, but ended up losing nonetheless.

Dean took a few pictures of them throughout the day. One of Castiel and Jack setting up the Monopoly board. One of the three of them drinking warm apple cider. One of Jack (and Belphegor) playing with Whiskey.

Castiel took the liberty of taking one of Dean with Jack sitting on his knees, both of them wearing reindeer antler headbands, as they were examining the _Guess Who?_ grid to ask Castiel a question.

And Jack, quite expertly, managed to take one of Castiel and Dean, standing next to each other and displaying their nerdy Christmas jumpers.

And after their third game of Dominoes _,_ a game that Jack was heavily dominating both of them, claiming that he was aided by Belphegor’s strategy, they set up for an early dinner.

Dean went for a quick walk with Whiskey, while Castiel and Jack put the games away. But when he came back, he was in the middle of a conversation with Sam over the phone.

When Sam had shown up at their parents’ house without Dean, and once he had explained why Dean had wished to remain in Lawrence, everyone back home was eager to know of his well-being and had wanted to make sure he wasn’t sulking alone in a corner of his apartment.

Dean, having been busy the entire day with Castiel and Jack, hadn’t had much time to look at his phone and answer calls or reply to texts—the many worried texts Sam had sent him due to Dean’s lack of replies.

It hadn’t been until Castiel had taken some pictures and sent them to him that Dean had taken a closer look at all the notifications on his phone. At that point, because they were deep into the game, Dean had simply sent a quick text to Sam telling him that he was fine, explaining where he was, and after wishing him and everyone else at home a good day, assuring him he would call later on.

But Sam, as it turned out, hadn’t been satisfied with a simple text. While he hadn’t called his brother a liar, he had demanded proof of everything Dean had told him, not in the goal of teasing him—although that was inevitable—but rather because he wanted to make sure Dean wasn’t on his own and miserable and that he was simply telling them this when it wasn’t true.

Thus, Dean, knowing full well what would most definitely result from doing so, had sent him a few of the pictures of his day at the Novaks’.

Including the one of them standing in front of the tree.

And now, during his walk with Whiskey, he noticed that he had three missed calls from Sam, and even one from each of his parents.

Apparently, Sam—as well as the rest of his family—had a lot of _comments_ to share about the pictures Dean had sent him.

So, he called them. Which resulted to a lot of teasing and even a plea for a Skype session with Castiel and Jack the minute he got back from his walk.

Which Dean had, politely and profoundly, refused.

But since Sam had managed to keep him on the phone until his return, Dean caved in and lent his phone to Jack to Facetime with Sam, as well as Mary and John who were watching over Sam’s shoulders.

Following warm introductions, where Jack was particularly loquacious, as he had never met Sam and Dean’s parents and was very curious about them, Jack then took it upon himself, much like when Dean had first came to the house, to give the Winchesters a virtual tour of the house. He showed them his Christmas tree, and silently aided by Dean, he showed the homemade angel Gabriel at the top of the tree, which had warranted a gleeful scream from Mary (“Sammy’s first crush!”), deep laughter from John as he tapped Sam sympathetically on the shoulder, and Sam headdesking the table.

Which made Dean smirk immensely.

Jack then reached his father’s side and handed him the phone. Castiel saluted the Winchesters, and despite the fact that this was a simple phone call and nothing official, he, like Dean, couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous and overwhelmed at the “meet the parents” vibe of the greetings.

And once the pleasant and cheerful call had ended, everyone yelling happy thoughts and wishes for the night, Dean put down his phone on the table, and shared a long silent look and shy smile with Castiel, processing what had just technically happened. It hadn’t been part of the _program_ , but looking at each other straight in the eyes, they were both unable to deny how happy they felt that it had happened nonetheless.

But this wasn’t the only surprise the day had reserved for them.

During most of the afternoon, the ham had been cooking in the oven slowly, and by the time Dean had returned from his walk with Whiskey, the smell was more than just mouth wavering.

Dinner consisted of a delicious honey-maple ham, cheesy mash potatoes, a panoply of roasted vegetables—which included garlic green beans, spiced Brussels sprouts and honey glazed carrots—and buttery rolls that Dean could have eaten by the dozen.

And for desserts, they had the apple pie Dean had brought them to share, as well as the many other classic baked goods he had brought with him, notably a variety of gingerbread, almond thumbprint and sugar cookies.

Over dinner, Dean shared stories of childhood Christmases, including the time when his father had built them a skating ring in their back yard and that Sam and Dean had gotten into a lot of trouble for having sneaked out of the house in the middle of the night to continue skating because they had loved it so much. Or the time when Mary and John had expertly hidden all the presents all over the house so it would be impossible for Sam and Dean to find before Christmas, but they had done the job so well that they had forgotten where a few of them had been stashed and had only came across them until the following April.

Jack in return told Dean of the time when he and Castiel had gone for a horse sleigh ride. Or when they had gone to the movies for most of the day. Or the time when they had gone on a road trip, had spent the whole day singing Christmas songs in the car, and had been able to visit a farm where on Christmas day local breeders, animal shelters and so on, brought a few animals that were ready to be adopted.

“That’s where we got Felix,” said Castiel to Dean later on, when Jack offered to let Whiskey out into the backyard. “I was not expecting him to pick a snake. I brought Jack thinking it would win me a few years before he would really insist on a dog. I was hoping for a bunny. Or a turtle.”

With full bellies, they then undertook the annoying chore of clearing the table. They let Jack amuse himself with Whiskey outside in the yard while Castiel and Dean put the leftovers away in the fridge and filled the dishwasher.

Neither of them said anything. They remained focused on their task at hand, humming to the Bing Crosby songs playing in the background.

All the while being highly aware of each other’s presence. And ideas filling their minds.

After having tended to everything, and once Jack and Whiskey had returned inside, they then opted to continue their Christmas movie marathon, eager to slouch comfortably on the couch together.

Smack in the middle of _The Santa Clause_ , however, Dean paused the movie as he was then inspired by an idea.

After inquiring about specific gear, Castiel smiled and went to his garage. Soon enough, all three of them were suiting themselves up with snow suits. Castiel lent Dean his bright blue onesie snowsuit, not wanting for him to ruin the leather of his usual coat. Dean lifted an eyebrow, but abided. While Castiel, snow pants on, was putting on an additional wool sweater to go underneath his trench coat, Dean was helping Jack with his scarf, boots, mittens and, of course, his Pikachu beanie. Castiel handed Dean a red beanie with a massive pom on top, which made Jack laugh immensely.

Properly dressed, they all reached Dean’s car, with Whiskey running around them excitedly.

Jack settled himself safely with her on the back seat, and Castiel and Dean loaded the trunk with a traditional wooden toboggan, as well as a pair of saucer sleds.

The streets, it being Christmas Eve, were nearly empty, so it didn’t take them long to reach the edge of town. Nearly ten minutes outside of town, after making a few turns, heading down a country road, they arrived in an isolated spot, which was hidden by tall trees, and where the snow was thick, fluffy and untouched.

And with the help of the headlights, Castiel was able to discern that they were at the bottom of a small hill.

Leaving the car’s engine running and the lights on, they stepped out of the car to have a closer look.

“How do you know about this place?” asked Castiel. “I’ve never heard of this place and I grew up here as well.”

“Sam and I used to come here sometimes. A family friend, Rufus, used to have a cabin just outside of town. It’s, like, maybe ten minutes by foot from here. We’ve had our exploring days in our youth and we found this place once. Unless you live around here, I don’t think that many people know about it.”

And with this, they then pursued going up and down the hill for the next hour or so. The first slide had been the best.

They attempted it with all three of them on the toboggan. Jack sitting on his father’s lap, and Dean kneeling behind them, with Whiskey running after them as they went down the hill.

Now, as enjoyable as this was, after a few slides, it became clear to Castiel and Dean, that they did not share Jack’s stamina.

Every time they would reach the bottom, Jack would immediately jump on his feet and run up the hill like lightning, while Castiel and Dean barely managed to make themselves vertical again.

But they carried on nonetheless. Perhaps a little slowly each time, but carried on.

Eventually, they let Jack go down the hill on the toboggan on his own, with Whiskey settled behind him. Dean had been very impressed that she had succeeded to remain on the toboggan the whole way down. As for Castiel and Dean, they used the saucer sleds this time around.

Which turned out to be absolutely hilarious.

By the time they had reached the bottom of the hill, Dean had nearly crashed into Jack and Whiskey, who had come to a halt not far from the Impala, and Castiel had slid right off his saucer and was now face first in snow.

Laughing heavily, they climbed up the hill again, with Castiel carrying the saucers and Dean dragging the toboggan behind him, while Jack trotted next to them. As they struggled up the hill, however, Whiskey flew by them like a blur, and in an instant, she was already at the top.

“Show off!” yelled Dean at her, which made Castiel laugh tremendously.

For their next slides, they then tried multiple combinations. Dean slid down with Whiskey on the saucer sled.

Jack had a go with the saucer sled as well, and because it spinned, he ended up sliding backwards for most of the slide, looking at Whiskey running behind him. And Castiel heard him laugh the entire way down, as they were next to him, on the toboggan.

Despite his enthusiasm, when Castiel noticed that Jack started to drag his feet going up the hill, they decided that it was time to return home.

While Dean was helping Jack shake off most of the snow from him, Castiel, mildly exhausted, was trying to put the toboggan back in the trunk of the car, but appeared to be failing after a few attempts, as it kept slipping from his hands.

“Come on! You’re going to get in there no matter what, you fu—you ass-butt!”

Dean and Jack stared at him, surprised.

“Daddy, you said a bad word!”

And then Dean was laughing so hard, he clutched onto his stomach with his eyes tightly shut.

“It wasn’t a bad word,” said Castiel, trying to calm himself. And then he added quickly, “But don’t repeat it.”

Once back home, the rest of the evening flew by. After a small cookie treat, Castiel let Jack open one present before going to bed, as they typically did on Christmas Eve, which warranted him a cheer of joy once Jack unwrapped a Star Wars coloring book.

Then, Castiel went upstairs with Jack to begin his nighttime routine. While the tub was filling up, he selected a pair of warm and clean pajamas for Jack. He did the same for himself, not only because after their outdoorsy activity he desperately wanted to change his clothes, but also because, after tending to Jack’s bath, he knew he would definitely be in a dire need of one.

Freshly washed, and wearing his pajamas, Castiel left Jack to brush his teeth and called Dean to join them, as Jack insisted he had to attend the bedtime story.

Dean, who had changed in the first floor bathroom on his arrival, joined them with Whiskey. He was now wearing sweat pants and what looked like an old rock band t-shirt.

Jack was snuggled up in his cozy bed, surrounded by plush animals, Whiskey lying at the foot of the bed, and Castiel and Dean seated next to him.

It was tradition to read a Christmas story on Christmas Eve, for obvious reasons. But that night, Jack asked if Dean could be the one to read it instead of his father.

Dean examined his options, and finally settled on Dr. Seuss’ _How the Grinch Stole Christmas._

Jack approved.

And nearly twenty minutes later, after they had laughed at Dean’s delivery with weird voices, Dean wished Jack good night, and let father and son have a moment.

Castiel pulled the covers up, fixed the lighting to his son’s liking and sat on the edge of his bed, brushing his hair.

“Did you have a nice day?”

“Yes. Is Dean going to be here tomorrow as well?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. But as long as you enjoyed today, that’s what’s important.”

“I did. Very much. You?”

Castiel took a deep breath and said, “I did very much so, as well.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

Due to the excitement of the day, particularly their exhausting sledding activity, Jack was very tired and hadn’t put up much resistance to stay up. Which had been a surprise to Castiel, as he had always found Jack’s sleeping patterns to differ from the norm.

But that night, it only took a few minutes, while Castiel simply ran his fingers through his hair, before he could tell that his son was sound asleep. He delicately kissed his forehead, fixed the bed covers, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t catch cold, and headed towards the door. Whiskey had remained at the foot of the bed and seemed to have no intention of leaving, which made Castiel smile.

He left the door slightly open for a bit of additional light, just as he always did, and went down the stairs as quietly as he could.

On the first floor, he found Dean waiting for him at the kitchen table, helping himself to a cookie and texting on his phone.

Exhausted from their day, Castiel sat down in front of him and grab a cookie as well.

Smiling at each other. Enjoying their gingerbread cookies. Aware that they were alone.

Dean twisted on his chair, stretching his back and arms, before leaning back into his seat again.

“Regretting the day at the Novak’s?” asked Castiel, teasing him.

“Nope. I will probably complain like an old man tomorrow, but worth it.”

Castiel laughed, taking another cookie.

“So what do you typically do after Jack is in bed on Christmas Eve?”

“I usually prepare breakfast.”

Dean frowned.

Laughing, Castiel said, “Growing up, we didn’t really have that many rituals for Christmas, except the Christmas breakfast brunch. But Jack is usually up rather early, and given that we spend most of the day at his grandparents where there is an abundance of food…brunch isn’t really a good idea. Therefore, by cooking most of our Christmas breakfast the night before, all I have to do in the morning is warming it up while we open the presents. And that way, we are both hungry by the time we get to the Klines’ and I still get my epic breakfast.”

“That’s great. So, what do you need,” said Dean, clapping his hands.

Castiel looked at him incredulously. “What? You mean—”

“I’ll help you out.”

“Dean, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. I said I wanted to be with you guys, and you said this is what happens next. Tell me what to do.”

After a short hesitation, Castiel said, “All right. You man the bacon. For starters. That okay?”

“ _Is that okay_?” repeated Dean, mocking him. “I was made for this.”

“I had a feeling,” he said, chuckling, after taking one last bite of his cookie.

As they settled the pots and pans, and laid the food on the table, Castiel suddenly stopped. “Oh, I forgot. One other thing I always do when I cook this particular breakfast.”

“What’s that?”

He walked to the coffee pot. “I always make myself a creamy hot cocoa coffee. With whipped cream.”

Dean moaned, beaming at him. “I only got one suggestion to add.”

“All right,” said Castiel, intrigued.

“When I was putting dishes away earlier, I saw you had a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps—which, by the way, I’m trying really hard not to mock you, because I find this absolutely hilarious.”

“It was for a recipe!” said Castiel, laughing.

“Likely story. Luckily for you, I think it would work perfectly well with what you’re proposing.”

“Deal.”

While Dean got started on the bacon, Castiel tended to their drinks. The cooking process was slow, but they didn’t care. They were giggling, drinking their sweet drinks, and humming to the Christmas music playing from Castiel’s phone.

Dean had comic moments, where he was lip-synching every song with his eyes closed to Castiel, who was settled at the table, peeling potatoes.

Within an hour, the cooking had been done—something that usually took Castiel nearly twice that length of time—and they were both strategically filling containers with food. Bacon. Waffles. Spicy black beans. Prepared vanilla Greek yogurts with blueberries, raspberries and chia seeds. Roasted potatoes and, as Castiel had implied the distinction, not pancakes, but _crêpes_.

Cooked in bacon grease, no less.

The only thing missing were the eggs and toast, which Castiel only tended to in the morning as it was very quick to do.

They cleaned up quickly in the kitchen, while trying to remain relatively quiet as to not wake Jack. He usually was a heavy sleeper—once asleep—but Castiel had to admit that after Jack was in bed, the house tended to be particularly quiet after that.

Dean was fixing them their third drink, as Castiel went to check on the fire in the living room, and soon they finally sat down in the armchairs by the window, where they, in a serene manner, watched the snow fall on the quiet street.

Castiel took a sip of his drink, and after assessing the taste, he turned to Dean, smirking.

“Sorry. I may have been a little more generous on the Schnapps this time around than I had intended.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” he laughed.

“I swear I’m not. The bottle slipped in my hands.”

After a few minutes of rest, drinking their spiked cocoas, Castiel said, “Can I give you your present?”

They put down their drinks by the window, fetched each other’s presents and took back their seats. Dean insisted on Castiel unwrapping his first.

“I confess it might be a present for Jack as well. Though I did put in something else too.”

Castiel lifted an eyebrow and unwrapped the box and was pleasantly surprised to find the complete collection of Hugh Lofting’s _Doctor Dolittle_ books.

“Um, yeah, so,” began saying Dean, “you guys have a lot of books here. I didn’t have the time to check the entire place, but as far I know, I didn’t spot any of those anywhere. Which, given your profession, is like a crime,” he added jokingly.

“We don’t have any of these, actually. That’s fantastic, Dean, you—thank you.”

“Like I said, I know it’s technically a present for Jack as well, but—”

“Dean,” Castiel stopped him, “I assure you, this is perfect. I—I really like it. It’s perfect.”

“You’re welcome,” said Dean, smirking at him proudly.

When it was Dean’s turn to unwrap his present, however, his smirk got exchanged for a stunned expression.

He picked up the pair of cufflinks from the small box and discerned the Led Zeppelin engraving on them.

“How in the world did you find this?” he asked, incredulous.

“I have my ways,” he laughed. “I know it’s silly as you cannot wear them every day, probably only on rare occasions, but since you like the band, I thought…I noticed you didn’t wear any at the Stynes’ party. Believe it or not, Jack helped in choosing them.”

“That’s even better. Thanks, Cas. I—I really love this. That’s—wow, that’s awesome.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And thank you for inviting me. I really enjoyed today. I know it was your day with Jack, so…”

“I’m very happy you stayed with us. It was very nice of you to bring us the tree topper. Nice catch of yours that we were in need of one.”

Dean chuckled at the sight of it. “Thanks. Although, it’s not the only thing I noticed your house was missing. In terms of Christmas decorations, I mean.”

Castiel frowned. “What’s the other thing?”

“You don’t have mistletoe.”

Castiel shifted his eyes in Dean’s direction. They held their stare for a brief moment, both smiling shyly, until both returned their gaze to the window.

“I live with my son and we weren’t expecting many visitors.”

“Right. I admit that makes sense. Mistletoe seems pointless then.”

After a long minute of silence, Castiel said, “I might need to rethink that though. It’s been proven to me just recently how nice of a tradition it is. Not to mention, you never know who might show up at your doorstep.”

Staring at one another, Castiel could feel his anxiety spreading.

“So, that was a nice reminder?”

Castiel nodded. “The nicest I’ve had in a long time.”

“I was sad that you left,” said Dean. “I know you had to, but letting you walk out that night after kissing you was—I shouldn’t have done it.”

“And had I stayed, what would you have done?”

Dean gawked at him for a brief moment. He gently put down his drink, and after doing the same for Castiel’s drink, staring at him, he stood up, and he reached for his hand.

And the next thing Castiel knew, he was slow dancing, cheek-to-cheek with Dean.

With one hand resting on Dean's lower back, and the other interlocked with Dean’s. Keeping each other close.

Swaying softly.

And their knees touching.

And soon, Castiel felt Dean’s hand move up to the back of his neck. When fingers fondling his hair in the most soothing, adoring way, Castiel felt tingles on his lower back, and tightened his embrace of Dean.

Dean then rested his forehead against Castiel’s, and hummed a soft tune as they continued swaying.

Castiel thought it so endearing that it prompted him to ease his hand to his neck.

They took a moment to gaze at each other, and then, without thinking, feeling his sweet breath brush against his lips, Castiel leaned in and their mouths met.

And just like the other night, they lost themselves to the kiss.

With the hunger for more intensifying quickly. And fuzziness filling Castiel’s chest, all the way to his fingertips, rendering his knees weak.

Tasting Dean’s lingering peppermint kiss.

They pressed against each other with more conviction, while Castiel was tugging his shirt and Dean had his arms fully wrapped around him.

And just as their tongues touched, after Dean had smoothly slid the tip of his tongue onto Castiel’s lips, Dean then slowed down and kissed his chin. And jawline.

And his touch was so gentle. Far more than Castiel had expected. Making tingles ran on his lower back.

Castiel let go of Dean’s shirt and eased his hands to his neck, gently nudging him to face him again, and kissed him harshly on the mouth, demanding more. After Dean let out a moan, they broke the kiss, needing to catch their breaths.

Taking a moment to observe Dean, Castiel was filled with an overwhelming feeling of bliss, as a smile formed itself on his lips and the warm jitters were ever present in his chest.

But as soon as he assessed his state, bliss and jitters were replaced by a massive wave of anxiety. His whole body was shaking. His mind was racing from one thing to the next. Panic and doubts crept back in as soon as they had left.

“Cas?” whispered Dean. His hand found his and squeezed it gently. Castiel took a deep breath and gazed at Dean with a faint smile.

Scanning his face, Dean swallowed and said, “Is it time for me to go back home?”

Castiel bit his lips, letting out a deep sigh. “I don’t want you to leave. I can’t let you go back home _on Christmas_ , and after everything—I want you here. With me.” ~~~~

“But? I feel like there’s a but…”

Castiel opened his mouth with every intention to speak, but at a loss for words, all he managed to do was clear his throat.

“Cas?”

“I—I don’t want to say the wrong thing and just—”

“You won’t.” Dean gave him a reassuring smile. “What is it?”

His thoughts jumbled up. Castiel, still not knowing what to say, lowered his eyes and exhaled deeply. Keeping hold of Dean’s hand, he walked towards the couch, where they took a seat next to each other.

Brushing Dean’s hand with his thumb, Castiel took a moment to weigh on how to approach the issue.

“I know you said—this morning—you said— _implied_ —that this is what you wanted. Not just—”

“I meant it.”

Castiel nodded, still nibbling on his lips.

“Is this—that’s not what you want?” asked Dean. His whole body stiffened as he shifted on his seat.

“It is.”

Relief spread throughout his face.

“Okay. Then, what’s the matter?”

“I—I want this and—but we just—we haven’t discussed,” he stopped, let out a sigh of frustration at stumbling on his words. “I—I’m not—you know I can’t just take off for an entire weekend out of the blue” and Dean frowned at him, more confused than ever, “or if tonight—we’re not alone and—”

“Cas, slow down. I—I don’t—I’m not expecting any of that. Ever. I mean, not just because—”

But Castiel continued rambling. “And I—it’s not just that. I don’t know what to do.” He sighed, disconcerted at everything. “Over here, in my house, I don’t usually—there is a reason why I don’t, um…”

Guessing what Castiel was getting at, Dean added, amused, “…don’t have _grown up_ sleepovers?”

Castiel let out a laugh. “Yes. I mean, not here. I’m usually the one who sleeps-over.” He paused a moment. “Not that I actually sleepov—I mean, I do, but not—”

Dean, smiling, said, “You don’t usually spend the night at their place is what you mean. Like, you come back.”

“I make a point of not bringing people over. Not that it happens a lot. I’m just trying to not confuse Jack. Or myself.”

“I get it. You don’t have to explain yourself. You do what you’re comfortable with. Child or not in the equation, that’s pretty much what everyone does. Or should do, anyway.”

Castiel lowered his eyes. “I never really thought about it that way.”

“And as for today,” Dean continued, “it was perfect. And I mean, the whole day. I understand it’s not just about you. You’re thinking about Jack too. As you should and it’s honestly one of the reasons I like you so much. But Cas, I waited so long. I don’t care how we get there. If you tell me that _this_ ,” he said, lifting their hands, “is what you want, then that’s all that’s important to me.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “So, you—I just—I need to know. When you say _this_ , you mean…for fun or…”

“I—I mean more than just that. If that’s what you want. That’s definitely what I want. That’s what I meant earlier. That’s what I meant every time I tried to—” Dean cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “I know I don’t have the most impressive track record when it comes to long relationships. So, I get why you might have hesitated. Or still are hesitating…”

“Dean,” said Castiel, shaking his head, “I—that’s not why I—I simply thought that’s what you wanted. Keeping things casual. Not in a bad way, just…But given how much I already like you, I knew trying to keep things casual would be pointless. That’s why I…”

“That’s why you stopped coming by your friend’s work to say hello every day,” said Dean, remembering their morning conversation.

“Pretty much, yes. And it was difficult to stay away.”

Dean lifted his hand to Castiel’s cheek and said, “I’m so glad you didn’t.” And after gazing at him for a moment, Dean gave him a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“While I’m thrilled for this clarification,” said Castiel, “that doesn’t change the fact that I have no idea what to do about now.”

“Like I mentioned before, is it time for me to go back home? I promise I won’t go too far if I do,” said Dean, looking at him fondly.

And just as when Dean had suggested it, Castiel was torn. Even if he wasn’t accustomed to keeping people overnight, and even if he feared he was crossing a line he himself had drawn, he knew full well that there was no way he could let Dean walk out that door now.

Thus, after one last hesitation, he stood up without uttering a word, and holding Dean’s hand, guided him towards the staircase.

Carefully watching their footing, they reached the second floor. Castiel paused once they had passed by Jack’s bedroom door. Wanting to be sure his son was sound asleep, he delicately pushed the door to have a better peek.

His rocket shaped lamp was still displaying soothing shadows on the walls and making the stars and moon stickers on the ceiling shine. Jack was cozily buried under a mountain of blankets.

And with Whiskey lying at the foot of the bed.

She lifted her head, and once assessing who was present, she wiggled her tail a few times, but rested her head down again, determined to stay comfortably in her warm spot.

Castiel quietly repositioned the door as it had been, and hand in hand, Dean followed Castiel to his bedroom at the end of the hall.

Once both inside, Castiel was about to shut his door, but stopped half-way. He kept his hand on his door handle, unable to push it all the way through.

Dean, noticing his struggle, slowly slid his hand over his shoulder for comfort and said, “What is it?”

“I’ve never closed that door before. I—I—I know it’s silly but I—”

“It’s not. Leave it open,” said Dean, and after a small smile, he pushed the door slightly, but just to say it wasn’t shut, and then took Castiel’s hand off the handle. And then kissed it.

“That okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Cas, you know nothing needs to happen, right?”

“Is that what you want?” he asked, holding down a grin.

Dean’s only reply was a smirk, which he held as he backed away from him, took his shirt off and flung it at Castiel.

As smooth as Dean had succeeded to appear for a few seconds, given that he hadn’t looked where he was going, he then ran into a laundry basket, and despite his best efforts to remain vertical, ended up stumbling on the floor right next to the bed.

Both laughing, as silently as they could, Dean had his hands over his face, while Castiel adopted the squatting position, as the more he was trying to keep his laughter down, the more it built up inside him, making his stomach hurt. Finally, once he had regained a bit of composure, he walked up to Dean and helped him up.

Both seated at the edge of the bed, giggling. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’ll be able to keep the leg. My pride took a beating though.”

“Does this help?”

Exploring with his fingertips, Castiel eased his hands down Dean’s chest. His ribs. Feeling Dean tremble at his touch.

And he let out small moan once Castiel reached his waist and lower part of his abdomen.

Castiel made notice of that sensitive zone, pulled Dean closer, and kissed him hard on the mouth. Happy to comply, Dean slid himself onto Castiel’s lap. After freeing Castiel of his shirt, Dean glued himself to him, keeping him warm.

Sucking on Castiel’s bottom lip first, then his tongue, Dean rolled his hips against him, which already made the bed squeak. As Castiel felt his heartbeat race, and his craving for Dean’s warmth grew, he slid his hands over Dean’s ass, squeezed it and pulled him closer still. Breathing unevenly, Dean moved his mouth on his jawline, throat, collarbone, twirling his warm tongue.

Although Dean was still wearing his sweat pants, its thin material didn’t leave much to the imagination, thought Castiel, as he felt Dean’s erection press against his every time Dean made the slightest of movements.

And just as Castiel was contemplating the idea of nudging Dean back on his feet, so as to help him with this situation, his eyes fell on his bedroom door.

The ajar bedroom door.

And without meaning too, Castiel froze, momentarily worried. Dean slowed down to take a look at him, and before he could say anything, Castiel kissed him.

But his mind was distracted. Turning his head, he glimpsed at the door every chance he got, wanting to make sure the door had remained in its initial position.

And even though not much had happened yet, the squeaky sound of the bed was becoming slightly annoying and worrisome for him too.

Finally, Dean broke the kiss, though not abruptly, and asked him, “You okay?”

Following Castiel’s gaze, Dean looked behind them only to return his focus on Castiel.

“Sorry, I—like I said, I’m not used to, um, having company here. And the bed…”

“Yeah. I’ve noticed.”

“I think there are limitations in what we can do tonight…”

Running his fingers tenderly on his jaw, Dean said, “How about we get in bed first and see from there?”

Eyeing his lips, Castiel nodded. After one last affectionate stroke along his jaw, Dean slid himself off of Castiel and climbed onto the bed as carefully as he could. They quickly moved the covers, lost their pants and underwear.

Lying next to each other, Castiel let Dean caress and explore his body. He quivered at his touch, particularly when Dean eased the tips of his fingers on his back, all the way down to his ass.

After a long series of burning kisses, they took a moment to catch their breaths. Dean pulled on the sheets and blankets to cover themselves up, which inadvertently made the bed squeak once more.

“You cold?”

“It’s a bit nippy, yes,” he laughed. He repositioned himself, almost on his back, but not quite, to be more comfortable. He hummed with a smile on his face. “I knew this bed would be cozy.”

Castiel frowned. “What do you mean?”

Realizing he had let slip a little more than he had intended, Dean bit on his lips. “I, um, when I was looking after Jack the other day, he gave me a tour of the house.”

“And my bedroom was on the program of the visit?” he asked, chuckling.

“Sort of. I didn’t—it’s not like I snooped or anything. I didn’t even step into the room. Jack just showed me every room and I, um, took notice of a few things here, that’s all.”

“Besides my messy side?” said Castiel, trying to not think about everything in the room that needed tending.

“One, I happened to like that. I’ll be on the lookout for laundry baskets from now on, but that’s not a problem. Two, oh, definitely more than that. Like the bed. I—”

And Dean stopped talking.

“What?”

With Castiel brushing his thumb over Dean’s lips, Dean took a deep breath. “I did imagine how it would be like. To wake up next to you here. To spend the night here.”

“I think you’re in luck for that one.” Castiel smiled at him, withdrew his hand a moment, and delicately rolled on his other side to fetch a bottle of lube in his nightstand drawer.

“Though I’m starting to see why, I thought you said you didn’t entertain in this bed?” said Dean, amused.

“I really don’t. But I do get lonely sometimes. Late at night.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean bit his lips. Turning himself on his side to fully face him, he then said, “And what exactly is occupying your thoughts when that happens?”

Castiel moved himself closer to him and said, “This was definitely one of them.”

He generously coated his hand with lube, and looking Dean straight in the eye, he slid his hand back under the covers and wrapped it around Dean’s cock, making Dean slightly tremble next to him. He moved his hand up and down his shaft, and slowed down his stroke every time he reached the head. He continued in that fashion, taking note of each of Dean’s reactions, assessing what Dean enjoyed the most.

Once Dean exhaled loudly, as he arched his back, Castiel, nibbling on Dean’s earlobe, said, “Dean? What do you want? Do you have a preference?” And he gave him another long stroke, making Dean moan and shut his eyes tightly for a second, holding it down. “Or do you want to continue like this?”

After Dean took a deep breath, he reached for Castiel’s hand and rested it against his chest. Brushing the back of his hand with his thumb, he said, “I want you. I’d like—I need you. I want—” and without even finishing his sentence, though at this point, Castiel didn’t really need him to do so, Dean gave him his most lingering, open-mouthed and passionate kiss yet. He sucked on Castiel’s tongue, as he rested his hand on Castiel’s neck, as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t disappear on him.

Following his lead and continuing their burning kiss, Castiel then eased his left leg over him, slowly positioning himself over him.

Feeling Dean’s hot cock pressed against his own, causing both their breathing to intensify, Castiel then managed to slide his knees in-between Dean’s legs and slowly spread them.

He had no intentions of forcing anything. But he hoped that, by simply doing so, it would convey his intention.

And Dean watching him, swallowing hard, trembling under his touch, was the confirmation.

“I’m not doing anything yet, okay?” Castiel said to Dean gently, wanting to reassure him.

Dean nodded to him, smiling.

As he rolled his hips in a very delicate manner to not make the bed squeak, Castiel began kissing Dean at the base of his neck, while Dean wrapped himself around him, seeking his warmth.

With their stomachs touching, Castiel continued making small circles with his hips, rubbing his cock against Dean’s, enjoying the friction and the sound of Dean’s breathing becoming even more uneven.

At first, the squeaky sound of the bed, though annoying, wasn’t so terrible. Dean seemed to think it was rather funny even. But as things progressed, heartbeats intensified, breaths were uneven, and the ache for one another was nearly intolerable, given that they hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet, and that the bed was a major concern, Dean had to agree with Castiel’s initial conclusion: they were slightly limited in what they could do.

This became particularly clear when Castiel did the one thing he had been fighting the urge to do. And in one moment when he forgot himself, he swiftly positioned himself on his knees and pulled Dean closer to him, eager to move things along. And although it hadn’t been anything major, with his hasty movements, he nonetheless had not only caused the bed to squeak louder than before, but he had also caused the headboard of the bed to bang loudly against the wall.

Twice.

“Shit.”

Castiel immediately froze. His chest was on fire from holding his breath, as they both listened attentively.

After a moment, once Castiel was satisfied that they hadn’t created too much commotion, he exhaled in relief.

Not trusting himself to continue with what he had in mind, he delicately repositioned as before, lying on Dean’s stomach, as they both took deep breaths.

His whole body trembled, blood was rushing to his head, and his cock ached. He hoisted himself up and stared at Dean, hovering over him.

“We could leave the bed,” he suggested. “It’s not the same, but I’m pretty sure we could make due on my armchair.”

Dean turned his head to take a look at it, bit his bottom lip and repositioned himself as he was. He paused a moment, thinking, and said, “Tempting. But—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—but I’d rather we stay here. Warm. Like this,” he said, easing one hand on Castiel’s ass. “Besides, there’s still plenty we can do.”

Half-laughing, half-groaning, Castiel pressed himself against Dean, in a near attempt to make him change his mind.

“Oh, I see,” said Dean, grinning at him. “Now that I’m in your chambers, sir, you thought you’d have your way with me, huh?”

“I just wanted—I asked you earlier. What you wanted. And I wanted to make it good for you.”

“I know. And trust me, you are.”

He felt Dean shift underneath him, and locking eyes with him, after caressing his ribs, Dean reached for Castiel’s cock. Dean didn’t even have time to do anything yet, and Castiel was already gasping at his touch.

Sliding his thumb over the tip, he then began stroking it, coating it with Castiel’s precum,

“But I got you, now,” he said, licking his lips, as he continued moving his fist down Castiel’s shaft with the perfect pressure, with a twist near the head.

Castiel tried as best he could to keep his breathing under control and remain in this exact position. His arms were shaking, supporting his weight.

His toes curled. His heart was about to jump out of his chest.

Castiel attempted, by leaning on one arm, to reach for Dean’s cock too, but with his arms already shaking at the sensation of what Dean was doing to him, he knew he would simply collapse on him.

Feeling the anguish building within him, Castiel breathed, “Dean, you too.”

Understanding what Castiel meant, Dean took a deep breath, and with Castiel hoisting himself a little higher to help him, Dean then wrapped his hand over their cocks.

They both groaned at the sensation, and in a slow manner, Dean stroked them both, as they desperately tried to keep their breathing even.

But Castiel, unable to help himself, began to mildly—very mildly—thrust his cock into Dean’s fist.

And against Dean’s wet cock.

And he had bite down hard on his lips to not utter a sound.

Dean, however, was having a lot more difficulty keeping everything inside himself. His eyes were tight shut. He was out of breath. And he was desperately trying to not move or let out a moan.

And Castiel got what he wanted: Dean melting underneath him.

Keeping still for a moment, Castiel whispered against his lips, “Dean, breathe. Open your eyes.”

Dean gasped as he did what Castiel told him.

“Are you close?”

Dean nodded.

And Castiel continued with the same mild rhythm as before. But the second Dean let out a groan, Castiel pressed his lips against his and thrust his hips with far more conviction, no longer caring about the bed, and continued to do so, until Dean moaned in his mouth, and Castiel sensed his whole body tremble against him, as well as the hot stream between them.

Leaning on one arm, Castiel showered Dean’s neck with kisses, letting him catch his breath.

And he was about to tell Dean how beautiful he was, when Dean, still out of breath, began stroking Castiel’s cock again.

“Dean, I—I—fuck.”

Dean quickened the pace, silently looking at him, and it didn’t take long, before Castiel collapsed on top of him, muffling a groan against his neck, while Dean wrapped himself around him. Running his fingertips along his shoulders.

Drenching a towel, Castiel quickly washed his face and cleaned himself up. And when he looked in the mirror, he realized he was smiling.

And that he couldn’t stop.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he paused in the hallway, listening. As he always did. Staring at the bedroom door of his son. And then he discerned Jack’s very distinct soft snores that only occurred when he was extremely tired.

Castiel let out a deep breath, tip-toed back to his room, and found Dean lying on his side, under the covers, waiting for him.

After helping him out with some quick cleaning up, Castiel threw the cloth into his dirty laundry basket, let his towel fall to the ground, and slid himself under the covers, against his warm body.

Buried under thick bed covers, they whispered sweet things to each other until they eventually fell asleep soundly.

But just before drifting off, Castiel had thought how wonderful it was that the last thing he would set his eyes on that day would be Dean, sleeping peacefully next to him.


	10. Chapter Ten: Christmas Day

“Dad! It’s Christmas! And Whiskey is still here! Dad!”

Before Castiel had time to register what was happening on Christmas morning, his bedroom door flew open, with Jack and Whiskey barging in on him.

And Dean.

Who, like Castiel, had just been woken up with the sudden commotion, slightly confused. Whiskey jumped on the bed and immediately attacked Dean with wet kisses on his neck. And then Castiel’s.

Jack, like Whiskey, though perhaps with less agility, had climbed on the bed, and rested at their feet.

“Hi, Dean.”

“Hey, buddy,” said Dean, nervously fixing the covers, while his dog was snuggling herself in between Castiel and Dean. “Um, merry Christmas.”

“Daddy, you had a sleepover.” He didn’t seem perturbed or shocked, he had simply said it as an observation.

“I guess I did, yes.”

Castiel observed his son a moment, waiting for him to comment on it, but then, Jack simply asked, “Can we open the presents now?” And he then eagerly yanked on the covers for them to get out of bed. Dean and Castiel protested, pulling back on it, making sure they had stayed properly covered.

“Jack, um, why—why don’t you go downstairs with Whiskey and let her out while we—um—”

“Get dressed?”

“Yeah. And we’ll get to the presents and eat breakfast after. Sounds good?”

“Okay. Come on, Whiskey!” And then he jumped off the bed and dashed out of the room, leaving the door wide open.

Both Castiel and Dean let themselves drop on the bed, laughing.

“God,” said Castiel, with his hands over his face. “This is what I get for always having prided myself on the fact that I had escaped the embarrassment of ever being caught in bed with someone by my parents in my teenage years.”

“I’m pretty sure this one was the far better scenario of the two,” said Dean, amused.

“For me, probably, yes.” He sighed loudly and said, “As for Jack, I either have the most tolerable kid ever, or I—” and he swallowed hard on his sentence.

Once his initial embarrassment had passed, Castiel felt dread cloud his thoughts.

“…Or he obviously doesn’t understand what it means. I mean, how could he, since I’ve never—I’m—I—”

“Cas, Cas,” said Dean, caressing his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—granted, not exactly how we imagined the scene, and I’m certainly not going to pretend like I have any idea what to do here, but just—I don’t think this is bad. We’ll definitely be more careful next time, and I’ll respect the boundaries and everything you and Jack need. But don’t—please, don’t think this is a bad thing.”

Castiel reached for Dean’s hand and shook his head. “That’s not what I’m thinking. Far from it,” he assured him. “I—but I need to make sure my kid is okay with this. While he has been vocal about it before, there is a difference between saying it and experiencing it. And that’s if he really understands it.”

“Of course. We go how you’re both comfortable with. This is your call on how we handle this with Jack. And I’m following your lead. I’ll be there with you if you want. And if you prefer to talk with Jack alone, to see how he is, that’s perfectly fine too, obviously. I—and if—if we need to slow down, that’s fine too, okay? ”

Castiel let out a deep breath. “I don’t deserve you. You say this now, Dean, but—”

But Dean did not let him finish. “Cas, how about we start by getting breakfast ready and then deal with the world exploding if that’s the case?”

Castiel nodded. He took a deep breath, readying himself to tackle the day, and as he was about to get out of bed, he turned to Dean and asked, “And, _next time_? That’s what you said, right?”

A smug expression appeared on Dean’s face. “And I meant it.”

“That’s a little bold of you to simply assume?” he said, grinning.

“Good point. But I was under the impression that we didn’t get to hit all the items of your _to-do_ list last night.”

And chuckling, Castiel said, “I have to admit, that is an excellent point.”

“Thought so, too.”

As they concluded that taking a shower together would only slow them down, they opted to take turns. So, after Castiel had showered with haste, he let Dean know he was done, dressed himself quickly, and hurried downstairs to start heating up breakfast.

When he reached the first floor, he caught Jack circling the tree, carefully studying the presents, and obviously deciding which one to open first. He picked one and after a clear hesitation, he delicately pulled on one of the ribbons.

Castiel walked up to him quietly and snatched him up, holding him in his arms. Jack startled, let go of the present and giggled.

“Hey, you know the rule, you have to wait for me.” And began tickling him on his sides. Jack, laughing, wiggled in Castiel’s arms.

“I am! I was just looking.”

“Oh, yeah? Are you sure?” And getting a better hold of him, he then blew a raspberry against his neck, making Jack laugh even more.

“I didn’t!” he protested in between heavy giggles.

And Castiel hoisted him on his waist, ceasing his tickles and looked at him, faking a serious stern. “Hmmm. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Can I open one now? And where’s Dean?”

“He’s taking a shower. How about, while I get started on breakfast, you can check out one of the stockings? You can help me with the table after. And once Dean joins us, breakfast will be warming up in the oven, and we can get to the presents then, before breakfast.”

Castiel, still holding him in his arms, picked up one of the stockings and carried his son to the kitchen with him.

They let Whiskey back in from the kitchen patio door, and as he quickly took care of the food, Castiel watched Jack retrieving small treats from his stockings. With the sunglasses resting on Jack’s head.

With most of the food in the oven, the coffee brewing and the eggs sizzling, Castiel set up the table with Jack’s help.

Plates. Table mats. Glasses. Utensils. The table was set rather quickly, and the only thing left was to wait for Dean.

Castiel sat at the table next to his son, who was playing with his little figurines, as he debated if now was a good time to ask him questions about Dean.

Before he could ask him anything, however, Jack lifted his head and stared at his father. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Are—do you think something is wrong?”

Jack shook his head. “Belphegor says you look serious.”

“Jack, can you put the glasses away for a moment?”

“Why?”

“Because Dad needs to talk to you, not Belphegor. About something important.”

Jack remained still for a moment, and then took off the glasses and gave them to his father.

“Thank you. I’m just putting them here, okay?” he said, laying them on the table. He cleared his throat. The water was still running upstairs, which meant Dean was still in the shower, thus allowing him a short moment with his son.

“So, like you said this morning, I had a sleepover.”

Jack stared at him, with a deadpan expression.

“Which I usually never do. I—how do you feel about that? About Dean and—about Dean staying here.”

Jack shrugged.

“And what does that mean?” asked Castiel. “Do you have questions? Are you okay with that?”

“I suppose. He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

“Yes. He is, but—do you know why I’m asking?”

Jack thought for a moment. “Because you didn’t ask my permission first? Like when Maggie used to stay over or when I used to stay over at her house, I had to ask you first?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. That’s actually a good point. You know that even if Dad makes the rule, you have to tell me if something is bothering you.”

“I know.”

“And Dean staying over was…okay?”

Jack nodded. “Is he gonna stay over more?”

“More _often_ , you mean?” Castiel corrected him. “I’d like that. Not—not all the time, but—yes. That’s a possibility.”

“Because you like him.”

“I do.”

Jack stared at him, scanning his face, and then said, “But you ‘ _like him_ ’ like him.”

Castiel blinked. “Um, I—do you know the difference?”

“Like how Maggie’s parents like each other? Or how you liked Mom?”

“Mom was slightly different. Not in a bad way. You know that, right?”

He nodded.

“But yes, I like Dean like Maggie’s parents like each other. Or like Grandpa and Grandma do. I know that I never had friends like this before. Is that—what do you think about that?”

Jack frowned.

“I like that you have a friend.”

“Okay, and? Do…do you have questions?”

“Does that mean that Whiskey will stay here, too?”

“Probably, yes.” Castiel wondered that if the dog was the only thing Jack was inquiring about, perhaps, he didn’t have much to worry about.

“I like Dean, too. And I like that he’s with us today.”

“Yeah? Me too.”

“Can he come to Grandma and Grandpa’s party with us?”

“I don’t know. I was going to ask him. But I’m not sure if—”

“They would like it,” added Jack urgently as if he had read Castiel’s mind. “When we talk on the phone or the computer, they always ask me about if you have a special friend or not.”

Unsure how to respond to that, Castiel simply replied, “How about we start with our usual Christmas morning? And we ask Dean later?”

“Okay.”

The rest of their morning was spent much like their previous day: unhurried and pleasant with a lot of laughter. They opened the rest of the presents when Dean arrived, freshly showered and fully dressed, and soon enough, they sat down at the table and devoured their delicious breakfast, of which all of them had three helpings.

After clearing the table, they had fun playing a few games of Uno, which had been one of Dean’s present for Jack.

But with noon approaching, Castiel allowed Jack to ask Dean if he wanted to accompany them to the Klines’ Christmas day.

Following his invitation, Jack then busied himself by letting Whiskey out in the yard once more, while Castiel and Dean discussed the manner privately.

“I’m aware there is a massive difference between you having stayed here with us yesterday, privately, and you accompanying us to, well, obviously not my in-laws, but the Klines’ very public Christmas party.”

“Are you worried about what people will say?” asked Dean.

Castiel shook his head. “I’m worried about how official and public it might feel. I’m okay with it, more than okay actually, but I don’t want to put you on the spot and it will most likely—”

“I don’t mind, Cas. I mean, I’m pretty sure it will be obvious, but we can just say we’re friends if that’s—”

“That’s what you want?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

Both smiling, they let out a small laugh.

“Okay then.”

“Do I have—should I change?” he asked, looking down at his clothes. But Castiel shook his head.

“You wear whatever you’re comfortable with.”

One look at Dean’s face, however, and Castiel knew that Dean wasn’t overly convinced of that statement.

He reached for his hand and repeated, “You’re fine with what you’re wearing.”

Although Castiel had insisted that bringing Whiskey with them at the Klines’ party wouldn’t be an issue, Dean had remained skeptical. He had let it go about his clothes, but not wanting to push it too far, he had decided that Whiskey should stay home for the time being.

And once they arrived at the Kline’s residence, he felt like it had been a good call on his part. The Klines’ home was impressive, to say the least, thought Dean, the moment they had stepped into the foyer. Perhaps not in terms of the vastness of the property, per se, although it was certainly big enough to fit his apartment more than three times over, but it was rather the luxurious décor and rich vibe of the place that made him think so. The large art works—all originals, Dean was sure—the high ceiling, and the white marble floor were major indicators of that fact.

And they hadn’t even left the foyer yet.

The Klines themselves had been the ones to receive them at the door, and although their more than respectable outfits made Dean momentarily panic—Mrs. Kline was wearing an elegant navy blue dress and Mr. Kline had a classic, yet sharp, black suit on with a red bow tie—after Castiel gave him a reassuring smile, Dean swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

After all, Castiel and Jack were not dressed as though they were about to step into the Metropolitan Opera House, either.

“This is Helen and Jack Kline, Jack’s grandparents,” said Castiel to Dean.

“Mrs. and Mr. Kline, hello. Merry Christmas.”

“Hello, merry Christmas,” said Mr. Kline, as Mrs. Kline shook Dean’s hand.

“And this is Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“Wait!” said Mrs. Kline, suddenly looking at Dean in a completely different light. “Yes! _Dean_. We know you. How nice of you to join us.”

“You know me?” he said confused.

“Yes, of course. The boys always mention you.”

“You’re the kind pet groomer who’s always helpful,” said Mr. Kline.

“The one with a very tall brother.”

“Sam.”

Speechless, Dean nodded.

“And he’s Dad’s special friend too, now,” added Jack for precision.

There was a short pause when the Klines’ stares turned into something different than it had been a moment ago. With their silence, Dean grew wary, as he remembered how _traditional_ Kelly’s parents had been, according to Castiel.

But he was then met with a warm smile and a kind embrace.

“Welcome, we’re so happy you could join us.”

“Thank you. It’s very nice of you to let me crash here at the last minute.”

“Please. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this one to bring someone?” they said, pointing at Castiel.

“How is this my fault now?” said Castiel, laughing.

“And now we finally get to meet the mysterious Dean who we’ve heard so much about over the years,” continued Mrs. Kline. “That’s fantastic.”

Nearly blushing, Dean was overwhelmed by their kind welcome. “Gosh, having known, I would have done something about it much earlier than that.”

“Well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters,” said Mr. Kline as he guided them down the large hallway to join the rest of the guests.

A large portion of the afternoon was spent with the Klines showing off their grandson and—to both Dean and Castiel’s surprise—making sure to introduce Dean to everyone they ran into. Jack even got to play with some of the kids who were also present, while still wearing his sunglasses.

Of course.

He (and Belphegor) even seemed to particularly get along with a little girl of the same age, named Kaia.

As the early evening approached, however, Dean, after hours of an unusual amount of socializing on his part, had to admit he understood why Castiel found the event taxing, as well as pleasing.

Following an interesting discussion over classic cars with one of the Klines’ neighbors, he soon realized that he had lost sight of Castiel and Jack. He politely excused himself, and after exploring a couple of rooms, Dean found Castiel resting in the library. He was seated in a large armchair by the fire, with his eyes closed.

Once Dean had reached his side, he gently nudged his shoulders with his hand to wake him up.

Castiel opened his eyes and smiled once he took notice of Dean standing next to him.

“Hey.”

“You okay? I was wondering where you were,” said Dean, taking a seat next to him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you. I just went to check on Jack and then I just—this chair was calling me.”

“It’s all right. I can take care of myself,” he said jokingly. “You look tired though.” He squeezed his hand.

“I’m fine. It’s just—you know me and crowds.”

Dean nodded. “You want to head out?” He then paused and glanced around, looking almost worried that someone had heard him. “Are we allowed to leave or there is a specific time…”

Castiel chuckled. “No assigned schedule. We leave when we want. And there is no hurry. Did you try the figs with bacon and chile? The grilled stuffed jalapenos? Cheesy pigs in a blanket? Or the peanut butter and chocolate dipped pretzel?”

“I have no idea—what’s the one with the jalapenos?”

Castiel smirked, and with his fingertips, he brushed Dean’s jawline. “Come on,” he said, standing up from his seat. “We can’t leave until you’ve tasted those.” 

Once Castiel had been satisfied that Dean had sampled nearly everything on display, watching him growing eager at what else was there for him to taste, they decided that perhaps it was time for them to say goodbye and return home.

Castiel and Dean, standing in the entrance, thanked the Klines for their hospitality, and to wish Jack to have a nice evening with his grandparents.

It appeared, however, that since their arrival, Jack had a change of heart on his plan to stay at his grandparents.

“Do I have to?” whispered Jack to his father.

Castiel shook his head. “Only if you want. And even if you stay and change your mind, it’s okay too.”

Jack bit on his lip.

Assessing his son’s uncertainty, Castiel nudged him to the side, away from Dean and the Klines, so father and son could have a private discussion.

Castiel squatted as to be nearly at the same eye-level as his son.

“I thought you were looking forward to staying at Grandma and Grandpa’s.”

“I am. I want to…is it bad if I changed my mind?”

“Of course not, Jack.”

“Grandma and Grandpa won’t be mad?”

“No. They might be sad to not see you as long as they wanted, but no one is going to be mad. I promise.”

Jack nodded, biting on his lips. 

"Can I ask if there is a reason why you’re hesitating?”

Jack diverted his eyes, not wanting to answer.

“Jack?”

He sighed. “You said that Dean might stay again.”

“Yes. If that’s all right?”

“It is. That’s why. I—I like when Dean is with us. I don’t want to miss it. And you said he wouldn’t always stay, so I don’t want to be away when he’s at home.”

Castiel let out a nervous laugh.

“You really like Dean that much, huh?”

“Yes. Don’t you?”

And in that moment, Castiel had to admit that his kid had been onto them since day one. “I do. And I think Dean likes us, too. Which is why I—” Castiel stopped mid-sentence.

He couldn’t make promises to Jack. He didn’t want to lie to him, either. Or get ahead of himself.

“Dean is still going to be there. And I can’t know for sure, because no one can know this, but I think, if everything works out well, Dean will be with us more often.”

Jack took a minute to reflect on his father’s words, and then said, “If I stay, can he come pick me up tomorrow?”

And smiling brightly at him, Castiel told him, “You can certainly ask him.”

And after a brief reassurance from Dean that, yes, if Jack desired so, Dean would be the one to pick him up the next day—with Whiskey, which was a very important detail—Jack was then feeling better at the idea of staying at his grandparents. Before leaving, once both Dean and Castiel had given him a hug goodbye, Castiel reminded Jack that he could call him if he ever changed his mind as well. Jack nodded, but told his father that he would see him the next day, because Belphegor said they would both be all right. He waved at them, and then followed his grandmother, who had promised him a nice warm hot chocolate made with nougat.

Seated in the Impala, the car they had opted to take given Castiel’s had still been buried under a considerable amount of snow from two nights before, Castiel exhaled deeply as he stared at the Klines’ house.

And then his own childhood home, right next to it.

“You okay?”

Castiel nodded. Focusing his eyes on Dean, he shifted on his seat to have a better look at him.

“Are you being like Jack?”

Castiel frowned. “You mean, rethinking everything?”

Dean remained silent, waiting on his answer.

“Absolutely not. I’ve had enough of the shilly-shallying,” said Castiel. “Let’s go home.”

“The what?” said Dean, laughing.

“Nothing. It’s just something Belphegor mentioned.”

Dean watched him with kind eyes. “He’s kind of insightful.”

“He certainly was about that.”

And once the Impala was roaring, they turned onto the road, with Dean kissing Castiel’s hand.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading (and this until the end!!! I hope you enjoyed it! This was so much fun to write and I thank the mods for suggesting this prompt! You are awesome.
> 
> Thank you to Landrala who's always supportive!!
> 
> Thank you so so so so much to [Danica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danica_Dust/pseuds/Danica_Dust) who is just amazing. No words. I'd like to say, she was the one who had the awesome idea to make Belphegor part of the story as either an alter ego or imaginary friend to Jack. And it was so fun to write.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this story. With Castiel being a parent, it was very different than what I'm used to writing and I hope I made it believable :)  
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://thefandomsinhalor.tumblr.com) too:) Thank you!! Have a nice day!!


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